From: nospamum@radix.net (Mumthra)

Subject: Your Toes are for Their Sockets

Date: 18 Mar 1999 00:00:00 GMT

Reply-To: nospamum@radix.net

Newsgroups: alt.foot.fat-free,alt.slack

 

 

 

Baby Bo had such a good time getting her nose plumbed in the ER that

she wanted us to meet more medical professionals in our spare time.

She chose probably the easiest method to accomplish this: she started

galloping off of chairs.

 

She did several daring leaps from the sofa, landing on all fours and

crowing. I suppose I should have OBJECTED to this, but I was sort of

hypnotized by the performance, and even brought the rest of the family

in to see her jump. For visualization and comparison purposes I should

say that it was like a miniature version of seeing a fully grown fat

person jump off a desk while pinwheeling arms and legs and shrieking

"BAH-BOO!" without any regard for the landing process.

 

Emboldened by her sofa success she moved on to the thing we call the

Electric Chair. She flew off the Electric Chair before I could say,

"Whuh!" and landed badly on one foot before she could say, "BAH-BOO!"

 

She wouldn't walk on it at first, but would drop down and crawl

instead. A few months ago this wouldn't have been ANY hardship, but

now that she's running around on two feet, she's FORGOTTEN how to

crawl efficiently. Instead of the recently familiar FWAP-FWAP-BOM-BOM

of a real crawler she was making a FWAP-FWAP-SWOOSH noise as she

dragged her legs behind her pitifully.

 

With a bit of encouragement, she walked again a couple of whiles

later, but clearly favored her left foot and gave up to sit and

complain about it after a dozen steps.

 

It seemed unlikely that it was broken, but a professional opinion

seemed like a good idea. Baby feet are WEIRD. They don't have all the

bone connections yet and even after considerable prodding and

comparing, I couldn't state decisively whether or not she had any

swelling--her feet are just THAT FAT.

 

I was relieved to see the New Doctor walk into the exam room. Our

pediatric people have been in a state of flux, but we've stuck with

them because the nurse and administrator are so good. Really, it

doesn't matter whether or not you have the world's greatest brain

surgeon if her support staff keep giving you enemas just for laughs.

 

The New Doctor wrung Bo's little legs and flexed her little tootsies

mercilessly and then cheerfully wrote out a prescription for an X-ray.

She seemed to think that the New Doctor was not worthy of her tears,

since he wasn't tieing her up and poking at her nose, I guess. She did

no more than flinch and offer a silent glare when he pushed her foot

back.

 

On the way to get irradiated, I explained the problems of indoor

gymnastics to Bo in a wholly redundant and unnecessary maternal way,

"If everyone ELSE was jumping off a chair, would you do it too?"

 

It's not going to be easy for her that as her nearest role model,

Spunky, is inclined to do weird things and miraculously get away with

it. She tried to fly for a couple of weeks, jumped down entire flights

of stairs without leaving a trace, and, most bravely, tucked an egg in

my sock while I was sleeping and then asked me if I felt something

cold.

 

Selfishly, I'm worried that Bo is going to keep getting hurt until she

gets me into the Endangerment Database. She MUST wise up to Spunky's

luck by then. Not everyone can do a headstand on top of an angry cat

and not everyone would WANT to.

 

Also selfishly, I was heartened to think that even if we had an

enormous wait at the X-ray shop, it couldn't possibly be as bad as the

Emergency Room was. She couldn't run in circles for five hours with a

hobbled foot.

 

She managed to stomp around pretty well, anyway, while we waited. Try

as she might, she couldn't annoy the other waiting people in their

"Kiss My Leprechaun" buttons. No matter what she did, it was met with

coos of approval from the green folk.

 

Another green lady appeared with a clipboard and called to her, "Bo?

Boo-boo?"

 

Bo said, "HAL-OH."

 

"You have a teletubbie color on today! Are you wearing Lala's color

today?" The Green Lady had the VOICE. She could be their narrator.

 

"Lala. HAL-OH!" Bo replied.

 

"Would you like to help me find Lala? Maybe Lala is in my special

camera! Would like to see Lala with me?"

 

We were equally hypnotized. We would have followed her anywhere to

find the Radioactive Lala Color Thing.

 

Later, we had forgotten all about the Special Camera. The important

thing was that Bo's foot was not fractured and we had several nice

X-rays of my hand holding her foot against a plate. It was also good

to learn that all Green Ladies are good and right and here to help us.