A client brought her 18 month old great-grandson into my office last week. He was well-behaved, but a toddler is always a toddler. He ran around my office a little, but she was right behind him to make certain he stayed out of mischief.
A few minutes later, I got up to grab some papers off the printer and noticed they’d left the little tyke’s sippy cup of milk. I could see on the security monitor that they hadn’t left yet, so I grabbed the milk and ran outside to give it to them.
I yelled, “You forgot his milk!” and held it up. In my haste to return the boy’s nutritious beverage, I didn’t see the lip of the landscaping. The lip reached up and grabbed me when I took my first step to cut across the lawn. I went down hard, rolled a little, and dropped the cup. I didn’t know what hit me until I was on the ground.
Thankfully, we’ve had a ton of rain this summer and the lawn was lush. That thick, wet grass cushioned my fall pretty well. The sweet lady came running over, asking me if I was okay. I rose to my feet, brushed wet grass from my clothes, and assured her I was fine.
I said, “I’m afraid you’ll need to wash the sippy cup since I rolled it around in the grass. I’m sorry.”
She smiled and said, “That’s no problem. It’s a good thing you’re young. If I fell like that, I’d be in bed for a week.”
I had to laugh at her calling me young. From her perspective, I am quite young. I’m roughly I’m half her age.
I ached for a while, but I took some ibuprofen and walked it off. I consider it a victory that I wasn’t sore the next day. Even though the milk didn’t spill, I did. No one cried.
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