Now she's got real troubles.

I could have thought of a better way to spend a Wednesday evening. See, last week Rebekah slipped and fell and kicked our very hard, solid-wood front door. Ouch, but it only lasted a little while. Then she was fine. She did all the normal summertime things a nine-year-old does...until Tuesday. That's when I asked her to mow the lawn (remember big brother is away).

She would mow a little, come in for a drink, mow a little more, come in for a drink. I kept warning her that it was getting hotter by the minute and it would benefit her to finish soon. Then she started complaining that her foot was hurting. Anything to get out of mowing. Then she said she was too weak. Ok, so she got out of finishing by promising to finish on Wednesday morning.

Wednesday comes and she claims she can't even walk on her foot. Give it some time, I say. Time doesn't help. It gets more swollen, more sensitive, and more painful as the day goes on. So I call to get an appointment with our normal doc and the scheduling lady tells me to go to the ER. What? I want to see my nice doctor in a timely manner, not go wait hours in the unpredictable black hole of the ER.

So I guess the picture gave it away already, but it took over 3 hours to tell us her foot is badly strained, she should ice it down and elevate it. But she was rewarded with a cool set of new crutches. She'd probably say the 3 hours was worth it just to get those, but I would have rather gone to Goodwill and bought a used pair! Don't have pity for Rebekah, she's sort of enjoying this. I'm just wondering who is going to finish the mowing?