The Spill and The Freeze

I am so gonna have whiplash tomorrow.  I'm starting to feel it already.  It's a good thing I'm in peak physical condition otherwise I'd be injured a lot worse than I am right now.

But check this out:  Do you have kids?  If they're anything like my kids were while growing up, and still are today to some extent, they'd always do what I call "the freeze" whenever they'd be involved in a mishap.  For example, if something spilled or broke or fell down they would just freeze in place and stare at it, making no attempt whatever to clean it up or move to ameliorate the situation.  Whereas the adults present, me or Maryann or whomever, would instantly spring into action to grab a towel or start picking up broken glass or whatever while the kids were frozen in shock or panic or amazement or who knows what.



So tonight I picked up Nattie (16) from work and she drove us home.  She's had her permit since October and drives every chance she gets to practice up.  She's been doing an excellent job since Day One and driving comes very easily to her, unlike some adults I know.  Anyway, she pulled into the driveway and went just a bit too far over to the right such that I'd need to step out into the snow to get out of the car.  It was raining pretty good at the time, by the way.  So I told her to back up and move it over a couple feet.  So after she moved we went to disembark and she asked me to grab her backpack and boots--those would be her sandy Ugg boots which she just got for Christmas (they had to be sandy, and during a conversation with her mother discussing same Nattie was heard to exclaim, "How can you not know what color sand is?  You grew up on an island!")--out of the back seat.  She travels heavy and was getting her other bag so I didn't mind helping out my baby girl.  

I closed my door--felt my foot slip a bit on ice--opened the back, threw a backpack strap over one shoulder, grabbed her boots--slipped a bit more on the ice, and then when I was closing the door slipped again, this time completely.  There's a slight downhill to our driveway and both feet came completely off the ground as I fell backward.  As I was going down I was thinking quite clearly, "Protect your head.  Protect your head.  Protect your head."  So I tucked my head as far forward as possible by the time my shoulders slammed onto the ground, cushioned only slightly by the backpack.  Also hit my elbow pretty hard.  

Due to the impact and my position I couldn't get up right away and could only lay there feeling water seeping through my skinny jeans.  I had no clue where the boots were at that particular point in time.  Nattie came around the front of the car--I suspect she knew something was amiss as I had screamed like a little girl on my way down to the Earth's surface--but then she just stood there staring at me--The Freeze had set in.  I was still trying in vain to get my leverage to at least roll out of the puddle and get up when she finally asked, "Are you OK?"  "Maybe just get your boots, Nattie.  I'll get up in a minute."  


A few minutes later I hobbled inside and went to report to Nattie in her room.  There she was, holding the Uggs in her hands, brushing them like a pony and lamenting that there were raindrops on them.  I was like, "HUH?"  Then while I was describing to her what had happened--after all, she had no idea why I had fallen--she picked up her backpack and started to study it inch by inch looking for damage.  It appeared to be OK but then she took her Camelbak water bottle out of a side pocket and noticed a dent in it.  She was mortified.  I was like, "Nattie, your dad is in pain here and you're more concerned with your boots, backpack, and bottle!"  She just stared at the bottle.  "Can you get me a new one?  After all, this was your fault."