Wrestling Injury

Our girls are as different as the constituent parts of an Oreo cookie. Broadly speaking, Scooter possesses empathy in abundance and Skeeter is a little more independent. I’ve mentioned already Scooter’s new experiences this school year riding the bus. When she rides away (it stops right in front of our house) she likes to see us waving and giving her the “I love you” sign with our hands. Skeeter, on the other hand, never looks back once we drop her off at school. She hits the pavement and is focused on school and the rest of us disappear from her little world.

A few days before Christmas, I foolishly agreed to another wrestling night. Things were progressing along well when Skeeter executed a perfectly good axe-kick that caught my extended thumb and drove it straight down towards my wrist. I, like most homo sapiens, possess an opposable thumb--but not in that direction.

I immediately yelped in pain and jumped to my feet. Squealer, not fully understanding what was going on, (or maybe, less charitably, not caring what was going on) immediately began a second attack. I told Squealer that we had to wait a few minutes before Daddy’s hand felt like playing again. Scooter knew that I was hurt and immediately burst into tears because she could see the obvious pain on my face. Even though she had nothing to do with the injury, she could tell that her Daddy was hurt and it caused her to cry.

But as soon as I said “Let’s take a few minutes so that Daddy’s hand will feel better” Squealer, who had actually injured me, shouted “Woo-Hoo! Water break!!” and ran into the kitchen to get a drink.