Oh hey, yes you, I see you there, check out my legs but don’t you stare. You’ll see my bruises everywhere!
On Friday past, I dragged my shoe, I tripped and fell. What else is new?
Oh my, oh me, I hit both knees. I scuffed my hands, I wet my pants.
[‘Twas pouring buckets up ’til then. What did you think I really meant?]
Those bruises that adorn me now, they’re old and new, black and blue, red and yellow, purple too.
Oh yes, that’s right, they’re small and big, I’m all beat up, oh darn, oh frig.
And so I say to readers all: Why stand upright when I can fall?
I wish I were not such a mess, I cannot help my clumsiness.
Yes, I have become the protagonist in a heretofore unpublished Dr. Seuss epic. Does Sam ever end up eating Green Eggs and Ham? And will I ever regain my balance?
Thankfully, since we were meeting for coffee, M. was there within moments of my dramatic encounter with the sidewalk. She helped me up, and, once I had my wits about me, she escorted me home. I cleaned myself up and nursed my wounds while she put away my groceries. Then she provided the perfect distraction–good gossip–and she left once she felt I was no longer a danger to myself.
Believe it or not, my bathtub encounter was unrelated to my clumsiness or inattention. In contrast, I’m sad to report my sidewalk fall was completely and utterly my fault. I have always been a klutz, but this propensity for falling is newer. Why is that? I can’t really tell you because I have no idea.
Where is my helicopter parent when I need one? Clearly, I can no longer be left unsupervised, so I’ve decided I’m going to have to hire a manny. (Don’t tell me you need a definition–take “nanny” and go from there.) I figure if I have someone by my side at all times, that person can help me to minimize my danger to myself. He can drive me around and keep me on a short leash. No more monkey bars at the playground, no more bike riding (I’m getting a trike), and walking in only the most comfortable shoes. One critical job requirement is reaction time that is faster than my own. (Everyone has reaction time that is faster than mine.) I will be paying my assistant to scan the environment–those nasty curbs, black ice patches, and random hazards which, I’m learning, are everywhere–and help me avert disaster.
Why not a nanny? Well, I need someone with a little heft to keep me upright. I haven’t been someone you’d describe as “petite” since Grade 1. What’s the point in having a constant companion if she can’t stop me from falling? Plus, think of how everyone will talk if I’m seen hanging out with a young, handsome brute. Hopefully no one will notice my clutching his arm for dear life.