Falling Down

Since I didn't have a chance to call Mom over the weekend, I called her last night.

"I fell down."

I hate hearing those words. More than that, I hate the sad, pitiful tone of my mother's voice when she tells me: "I fell. Again."

This time, though, she didn't pass out and lie on the bathroom floor for some unknown period of time. She got nailed by a little kid running at church. This was good news!

"What did you fall on? Your butt?"

"My knees."

"Are you okay? Do you have bruises? Are you able to walk okay?"

"I'm okay. I have a couple of bruises, but I seem to be able to get around okay."

What a relief.

"The little kid -- just didn't see you? Did his mother apologize?"

"I guess. He was just running all over the place and I didn't see him coming and he crashed into me. I fell down onto my knees. His mother didn't say anything. She didn't even apologize."

PSA: If your child is running around and old people with canes are in the area, this is not good. Some of these seniors can't see your little kid zooming toward them and can't move fast enough to get out of the way even if they can see. They are doing well to be upright. Give them a hand, huh? Send your kids outside to run. Away from people using canes. Also: If your child actually knocks an old person down? Have the kid apologize. Then you apologize. Profusely. Stop by with a goddamned homemade cake later and thank your lucky stars the oldster isn't in the hospital with a broken hip, talking on the phone to her lawyer. Because she's not that kind of person. She's a good, religious woman, not the kind to hold a grudge or come looking for you if a serious injury results. She's not, but her daughter is.