Grace Stikes Again

I've mentioned before that my nickname growing up was Grace (one of the many nicknames anyway). Well. This weekend, she stuck her foot out and tripped me up again.

We were visiting family yesterday. The terrain was not my own. Lovey & I were horsing around as we often do. - Now, before I describe this "horsing around" we were doing, please know that nothing is done viciously or with anger, we are laughing the entire time, and for the most part, it is done softly with intent of messing with the other person, not hurting them. There is rarely pain & apologies and giggles are passed when there is.- SO...This game we play usually starts with one of us very lightly kicking the other one in the calf or the rear end. Or lightly finger slapping the other one in the arm or again, the leg. Sometimes there is poking in the arm or stomach. All it takes is one touch and we're both off giggling and smacking each other. My husband HATES it when we do this. He says it's because he knows one of us will end up hurt. But, that rarely happens. I think it's because he's more than a little jealous. He's one of those "doesn't play well with others" kind of fellows. He does play too hard and someone does get hurt when he gets involved.

As we were playing, Lovey got a good smack on my leg. We had an audience and had them all laughing. Because this smack was loud (but not painful) he took off running outside. This caused everyone-mostly men-to make chicken sounds. Again, just teasing , he was laughing & smiling the whole time. While he taunted me from outside the screen door, I warned "Just you wait...I know where you sleep!" A few minutes later, he braved the indoors and stood talking to his uncle. I crept up behind him, kicked him softly in the rear end and took off.

This is when I learned a very important safety tip. Never wear Crocs while running on thick piled carpet. The rubber sticks and you just don't get the speed or control you need. I turned the corner, the toe of my shoe caught on the carpet, my knee buckled underneath me. I looked forward and saw only the corner of the wall. Quickly, I stuck out my arms so they would grab it first rather than my head crashing into the corner. My hands made it, my arms grasped it, I made it to the wall without injury. This was not done gracefully. I was literally hugging the wall while my legs were bent at strange angles, both feet stuck in place because of that darn rubber shoe. As I giggled, I slid down the wall, hit the floor, rolled over and started laughing. My sweet Lovey knew I wasn't hurt so he too laughed to the point of falling to the floor. My wonderful sister in law watched all of this in a panic. All I could hear above the laughter was her calling my husbands name over & over, sure I had seriously injured myself.

I did scrape my knee, and I do have a large bump on my wrist, but the fun was more than worth it. As I stood in my own kitchen later, my husband examining my slightly swollen wrist, he said "I knew someone would get hurt." I just smiled and went for the facts. My boy is 14. He doesn't let me kiss him. He will only on the rarest of occasions let me hug him. But he will play with me. If I get a little banged up in the process, then so be it. Years from now neither of us will remember the sting of a finger slap but we will remember the laughter.