Stupid Question

Yesterday afternoon, as I was traversing the minefield of toys that was previously known to be my bedroom floor, I took a tumble and fell. Thankfully I wasn't hurt, but anytime I fall I feel uneasy and scared for awhile. I'm reminded of the vulnerability that comes from relying upon a prosthesis and of the fleeting nature of mobility. I know all too well that one misstep can lead to months of problems and pain!

Not only did I scare myself when I fell, but I apparently I do not fall quietly.  Robby sprinted into the room when he heard me crash. My little rescuer was in such a rush that he failed to remove his headphones that were hooked up to the computer. He managed to knock over the speakers, keyboard, a plate of dinosaur chicken nuggets and a large glass of water in his attempt to render aid. 

Timmy was frightened by the commotion and began to shriek in the living room. Scott picked him up and came running to see what happened. He found me on the floor, trying to pull myself up with an array of overpriced hard plastic toys in assorted shapes and colors under my feet and torso.

At first I assumed his asking, "Why are you on the floor?" was a rhetorical question. When he asked a second time, I barked that I had fallen. "Well, why did you fall?" In the annuls of stupid questions, that certainly must rank among the top.

Deciding that silence would probably be advantageous in that situation and knowing that I wasn't hurt but simply shaken, I pulled myself off the floor and took my red-faced screaming baby. After Timmy was calmed, Robby and I spent the next hour picking up the toys and putting them away. While I hate falling, perhaps this tumble had a silver lining.  Seeing that I had slipped on the toys had far more impact than my constantly harping "pick those toys up before somebody falls."