I may never figure out how to stop Mila from climbing on the kitchen table to eat her waffle every morning, but I have mastered the art of keeping the dogs out of the places they don't need to go. Between baby gates and strategically placed box fans, the fuzzy creatures lead a life on the outs.
It's for the best. Trust me.
The thing about blocking doorways all over the house is that sometimes I need to go to those restricted zones. A smart person would pick up the box fan obstruction and move it aside. I am not smart. I very often step over the fans, which means I very often misjudge the whole situation and wind up tripping, knocking something over, or breaking a toe.
So, yeah. That happened. I misjudged a step and whacked my foot against a doorway last week. I did it so well that I should get a gold medal for dumb. My poor tiny little toe ...
I tell you this not so I can get sympathy. I fully own the stupid that was that moment and whatever. It's a toe. There are far worse injuries in this life. I'm telling you this because it's necessary in order to fully appreciate a little story.
Dance class. It has started back up. Somewhere between Alexis' pure glee and the moment I realized I was in a room surrounded by moms eagerly discussing gluing sparkles to t-shirts, I ran. Well, hobbled, really. I hobbled my way to the car and then to the mall because the best way to deal with dance stuff is retail therapy. I had an hour to run through the mall and no Mila with me, so that's basically long enough to go into every single store. A toddler in tow means you have enough time to get out of the car and then right back in it, you know?
So I hobble-dashed into The Limited with my eyes set on the clearance racks. I've had some solid luck there lately, with $10 pants suddenly being a very real thing. As I worked my way to the back of the store, a shirt caught my eye, so I quickly veered to the left.
As I veered, something happened. I'm not entirely sure what it was, but the result was that a hand fell to the ground. In the split second it took me to realize it was a mannequin hand and not a human hand (PHEW!),I forgot to move out of the way. That means a hand fell on my broken toe. Which, WOOOOHBOY.
I'd like to not repeat that moment.
As I ripped my foot out from under the hand, I hobbled a bit. I hobbled just enough to run full force into a different mannequin, one that still had two hands, and ... you can guess how that ended.
The good news is that I make a most excellent football player. I can level a bunch of (fake) people in no time flat. The bad news is that apparently I clear a room best when I've got a broken toe.
So, hey. Anybody have any idea why Alexis so frequently gets attacked by the floor? I can't figure out how she's such a klutz. Ahem.
(She's a klutz who rocks at weird dance poses and such. It's extra weird.)