I was fast asleep, likely dreaming of iced mochas or, even better, the clearance rack at Target.
Yes. Yes, a medium will fit fine... with just a little more whipped cream...
“Mommy! MOMMY!” cried my daughter, a toddler then, from the top of the stairs.
Her too-late hysterics frightened me, and I fumbled for my glasses. Throwing them up the bridge of my nose as I rounded the bed, I aimed for the family room. But with my dreamy state and (this is always the most important part) clumsy body, I cut the corner too tight.
Just there, where the wall extends at a right-angle from the door, I met the flat, solid expanse with great and hurtful force.
My body bounced one way; my glasses sprung the other. My face throbbed as I bellered into the night, “My nose! My poor, aching nose!” (Or, er, something like that.)
But I righted myself--my baby needed me!--and retrieved my unscathed glasses. Made it upstairs in record time to find...
My daughter was cool as a cucumber, her moment of distress passed. She was okay, whatever it had been.
As for me and the wall, well. I'll let you guess who won that battle...
Read less-destructive things about Janna at her blog, Something She Wrote.
*No Jannas were harmed in the making of this post.