Taking a Tumble

Have I ever mentioned how clumsy I can be? I seem to have a habit of falling down stairs.  Someone once referred to me as the most graceful yet klutzy person on earth.  That comment was made in college, after I left a second floor dance studio where we were rehearsing a performance I had choreographed with 20 dancers, only to fall down the stairs outside the studio.

I don’t know what we were thinking moving into a house with three levels!  We’ve been here one month, and I’ve already taken my first tumble down the tiled stairs.  My husband was away at the time, but my two daughters heard the commotion and came running, one with an ice pack and the other with Bactine and a box of band-aids, the same things I use to doctor up their boo-boos.

Nothing was broken, just a couple of bruises and strained muscles.  The heroes of the day were my eight-year-old and eleven-year-old daughters, who not only tended to my injuries with loving care but then got dinner on the table and cleaned up afterwards.  My oldest even took the laundry out of the dryer, folded it and put everything away before bed, without being asked.  By the time my husband got home from his trip, the dishes were done, the house was fairly clean, and we were all safely in bed.

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