I was well into the second hour of indulging my post-half marathon aches & pains -- I had taken a warm bath, spent a little time in bed with a stack of magazines and a heating pad, and was just about to snuggle up with Caroline on the sofa and take a little nap -- when the phone rang. I wasn't sure who would be calling right then -- David was at Elizabeth's soccer game with Jacob and Elizabeth, and I had otherwise already spoken to everyone I typically speak with on a Sunday. Probably just a telemarketer -- SURELY nothing that would interfere with the next 8-12 hours of self-babying that I had planned.
It was David on the phone -- he had stepped on a soccer ball, beard a loud "pop" (his ankle, not the ball) and gone down hard. Could I get a ride to the field? He wasn't sure he could drive and we didn't want to wind up with two cars at the field. And with that, I was officially no longer the achiest one in the house. So I limped on over to my closet, got myself dressed, popped a couple of Tylenol, and headed over to the field with Caroline and David's parents. Here's how we found David:
One amazingly efficient trip to the ER later (seriously - in and out in less than an hour!) and we were home; David was on crutches and in an ankle brace, but it could have been much worse. We were hoping that the kids would baby both of us that night, which didn't quite happen, but they were really tired from the weekend so at least they went to sleep pretty easily!