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June 3, 2008
Shovel vs toe
I'm pretty sure when I was a kid, my dad had a rule about wearing sneakers or boot when you used a shovel. I know that rule applied to lawn mowing, horse and bike riding, and dirtbikes.
My dad's been wrong about a lot of things in my life, but this wasn't one of those things.
We have this super heavy duty sandbox that my mom made for Jamie when we were living in Maryland. We thought our move to Houston was going to be permanent, so we went to the trouble to pry the thing out of the ground at my dad's and hauled it to Texas. You have no idea how heavy this sandbox is. It takes two people to move it, and even then it's a strain. Oh, and that's not including the lid!
Once we moved the thing to Texas, we were obligated to take it with us wherever we went. In hindsight, we should have left the thing in Maryland, where the girls would still have had plenty of time to play in it. Of course, we had no idea how many moves we had left.
Now that we're settled(!) again, it's time to dig that baby back into the dirt. We've finally agreed on where it should go, and so I took advantage of one of Owen's happy days and a cool morning. I got out the shovel and started to cut the sod. Well, I tried, anyway. Apparently the sod did not want to be cut. I was stomping and stomping on the damn shovel, and getting absolutely nowhere. And then I somehow missed, and kicked the top edge of the thing.
Did I mention I was wearing sandals?
Yeah. I managed to not teach the girls any new words, and I only screamed just a tiny little bit. Not even enough to bother Owen, who seems to be sensitive to the crying of others. I'm pretty sure I broke the toe next to the little one. No roast beef, and now this. It's a nice shade of purple today.
You were right, Dad.
Posted by me at June 3, 2008 9:12 PM