Ok, well that's a little harsh of you to say to me. You didn't? That was me? Well, fine then. Let's carry on.
I've been pretty quiet here lately, I know. Can you feel my shame via internet waves? Well, can you?
Let me show you why. (and I've included pictures. How nice of me, huh?)
Let me begin with Part One of the Blogging Slacker Chronicles
Can you guess what happened here? Bonus points if you can tell me what she should have been doing.
I am never usually one to point fingers, especially at one who can't point back (as is the case), but one of us was supposed to be folding her laundry and one of us somehow got her finger stuck in the hole where the handle used to be and the other one of us had to call our dad to come from his house to our house to help "unstuck" the one who stuck oneself because the other one was quite unsuccessful at "unstucking" the first. Ahem.
I am sure you are sitting on the edge of your seat to know what happened. Ok, here it goes. We got her out. The end. Rivoting, isn't it? Ok, there was a bit more to it than that.
Somehow, we still don't understand how, her finger mysteriously jumped into this hole while the rest of her body was folding laundry. (Don't you HATE it when that happens? I know I do!)
We're in the process of getting that guy from unsolved mysteries to get this sorted out for us.
Here's what happened next:
I assessed the situation. (First Aid training comes in very handy - Grin)
The little tug I gave at her hand sent screams into the heavenlies producing tremors measuring at least a 6.5 on the Richter scale.
No, I didn't leave her to go toss some pasta; I poured olive oil onto her finger to try to grease that puppy up. Nada.
Can I admit to you that this is where I began to be a little concerned that I may have to drive my daughter to Emerg with this HUGE tub stuck on her hand like some celebrity's (24 hour) engagement ring? I know I like to do things big but, um, not exactly what I had in mind.
I did what every girl does when they are in a crisis situation. I called my dad. (Have I told you that he is my hero? I haven't? Are you sure? Because I am pretty sure I must have mentioned that at some point.)
Over the phone my dad thought I should just be able to cut the plastic but, I don't have any strange kinds of saws handy at my house.
Just when I thought all was lost and I was going to have to take her to Emerg all done up like Madam Bijou (to have all my friends laugh at my family - have I mentioned that my family, mainly my brother and Rush may as well have been getting frequent flyer miles from the Emerg? No? Perhaps another time.) Dad decided he would drive over.
With our calm, soothing voices on, we settled the trapped
animal Jellybean who was beginning to froth at the mouth like a rabid dog (Disclaimer: some of this story may or may not have been grossly over-exaggerated - like, say, for instance, this sentence...)
Between my dad and I, mainly my dad, we wiggled, jiggled, pulled and manipulated her finger out of the bucket. She then cried in Pa's safe, strong arms (I know; I have been there myself.) until she felt all better and vowed to never put her finger in the hole again.
As soon as she figures out how it got there in the first place.