Saturday, April 30, 2011

Gravity Is A Harsh Mistress

Margaret’s habit of walking like a drunken sailor, but often a drunken sailor in a terrible hurry, has been known to lead to some tumbles, and though we try to limit them, in general we try to help her learn from her mistakes in a constructive way.  To whit, when she falls, we comfort her while pointing out that it was her own fault because she was trying to run as fast as she could over uneven ground.  We are sure that this is very educational for her.

Today, she was wandering around outside, doing her usual circuits.

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But at one point, she tried to run faster than the sidewalk, and it didn’t work out too well.

Actually, she tried to go off of a step that we were very careful of for a long time, but she was cautious, and so we trusted that she had learned some sense and wasn’t going to try.  More fool us.

Anyway, she has a nasty goose egg, and skinned forehead, and a slightly banged-up lip. 

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This is not, however, stopping her from piling blueberries on top of her cup of milk.  Because blueberries aren’t going to pile themselves, are they?*

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*Should anyone witness blueberries piling themselves, I would urge them to report said phenomenon to the relevant authorities, though come to think about it, I’m not sure who those authorities would be.  The Department of Agriculture, maybe?

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