I fell down. Again. I fall down a lot. I fall down almost as much as I get married and/or divorced.
The universe has one rule regarding my falling down: I can only fall when no less then 4, but up to 100 people see it happen. That’s how I know I’ll never fall in the shower.
I was at the park doing the MeeMaw thing with my granddaughter. There was swinging. There was milkshake chugging. There was even MeeMaw going down the slide and yelling, “Why in the hell didn’t I grease my behind?”
The Princess Monkey was having a ball. She’d taken my purse stash of Transformers gummy things and passed them out to pretty much every kid on the playground in exchange for the unquestionable control of all play decisions moving forward.
Long live the princess.
“Meemaw,” she said in that tiny mouse voice she has (when not screaming at her brother), “I love you. You’re the most best MeeMaw in the whole town.”
Frankly I was a little disappointed. I’d driven her to the playground, bought her a milk shake with my very own money, and supplied her with all the chewy child currency needed to bribe as many germy children as needed to ensure her glorious rule. If that didn’t make me the most best MeeMaw in these entire United States, I began to think the whole voting process was rigged.
As I sat on the bench where someone had carved a heart, I thought about how lucky I was – despite only being the best MeeMaw in our tiny town and our tiny town only.
Not for nothing, but why do people carve hearts on things? Is their love of inanimate objects so overwhelming that it can only be expressed by committing acts of underwhelming vandalism?
I am more inclined to think carved hearts aren’t etched by human losers at all, but by a race of highly intelligent beings for whom the heart shape means, “We are coming to eat your eyebrows because they are considered a delicacy on Planet Fligflat.”
Anywho… it was time to leave the park. I’d given the customary 5 minute departure warning 4 times. Thank goodness most of the Princess’ subjects had left, else she’d still be there demanding all the short humans build her a castle out of playground trash cans and the Velcro from their shoes.
I knew she wasn’t going to carry what was left of her milkshake, because royalty, so I grabbed it along with my tea, my purse, and my dignity – which I still had.
Up the hill we went. And by hill I mean slight incline. And by up I mean up the hill we were supposed to go, but down the hill I did go.
The milkshake went flying, as did the tea, my glasses and parts of me that were supposed to be on the ground – like my legs. I hit my head with a thud, my left elbow tried to stop my fall while my shoulder took the brunt of my weight.
It hurt. Like a bitch.
The Princess Monkey, ever regal, looked at the splattered remains of her milkshake and shouted, “MEEMAW! LOOK WHAT YOU DID!”
It’s called empathy people. Look it up.
The last of the moms left at the park came running, repeating again and again that she had a First Aid kit in her Mom van. “I HAVE A FIRST AID KIT IN MY VAN!” she cried. She was super, super excited about the potential of breaking that bad boy out and bandaging someone.
When I declined and assured her I was really okay, but just needed a minute to get my breath, she came up with another offer.
“I have pain pills in my purse,” she said.
Of course she did. She had 4 children.
Long story short, I got up and walked up the slight incline while my granddaughter walked behind me holding her hand against my butt. “Are you trying to push MeeMaw up the hill, honey?”
“No. I’m making sure you don’t fall.”
The preciousness is almost too much.