We went on a walk through the neighborhood Tuesday night on the actual ROADS, which I thought surely that would keep anyone else from injuring themselves.

However, Ali was quite excited that we were walking with our neighbor Alice,

(whom Ali adores with all her heart, to the point that she sings about her quite a bit – over and over and at the top of her lungs, “See Alice! See Alice!!!”.)

(Especially when we’re in a busy restaurant about to eat lunch with her.)

(Which makes everyone within earshot wonder why a three year old is singing about Cialis, but really, what can you do.)

Anyway. Ali, in her bubbly excitement about ED Drugs seeing Alice, got to skipping really good, and did what every kid does but Ali never does: she fell.

And skinned her knees.

For the first time ever.

Which was the second time that she’s ever seen blood come from her body with no nurses and needles involved.

She actually handled it much better than I expected – she cried for a couple of minutes, but was then able to move on and walk, with the help of picking a new flower every few minutes from which to gain strength.

However, Wednesday morning was a different story.

She was perfectly fine, singing and happy, until I came into her room and turned on the lights.

She pulled her legs out from under her covers, saw her knees, and screamed with shock and horror.

Seriously – you would have thought that she had a Freddy Krueger shaped scab.

“They’re still blooded!!! My knees are still blooded!!!!”

“It’s okay baby, it’s dried blood – it’s called a scab. They have to do that to heal.”

“They’re blooooooooded!!!”

“They’re just fine! They’re just getting all better.”

My comforting meant nothing to her. The severity of her injuries rendered her completely unable to walk.

At all.

No amount of logic on my part could convince my miniature Ricky Bobby that she was indeed still capable of walking, despite the blooded state of her knees.

Especially down the stairs.

Carrying her downstairs was mighty hard to do and probably seriously comical to watch, considering that I started Jillian’s 30 Day Shred back up this week, and my leg muscles were so traumatized they’re curled in a fetal position in the corner of the attic.

Her blooded knees also required her to live in a constant state of moaning and great remorse…until I forced her to allow me to put “long pants” over them, which initially caused great gnashing of teeth at the horrors of fabric touching her anguishing knees, but ultimately toned down her tortured mindset, if only a wee bit.

Once that was done, I was finally able to trick her into realizing that she could indeed walk (but no worries – no Talladega Nights strategies were needed).

However, her walking was not without difficulty: the only way she could convince her legs to be useful was to do this weird inverted limp all day: one foot flat, one foot tippy-toed. One foot flat, one foot tippy-toed.

And then she would swap her limp to the other side. You know, equal opportunity and all.


Oh, the tragic life of a toddler.

I’m pretty sure she’ll never be able to hold down a job that require knees.

But on the bright side, she could sing the jingle for the Cialis commercials.

21 thoughts on “Kneetastrophe

  1. Tell Ali that I hope her knees feel better!!

    PS. We're going to have to teach her a new Alice song! haha!!

  2. Oh, that makes me sad. So sorry (for her and for you) :). Put some antibotic cream on it and call it "feel good cream" That helps a lot at our house.

  3. Better watch out the next time you guys take a walk, your next on the injury rotation :)
    Hope the knees heal soon!
    Luke had a kneetastrophe on Tuesday too, but not the 1st, more like the 20th.

  4. Chris did that at me house when he was 2-3, much less scratching, and his Mom NEVER let him come back again. Said I was unfit since I didn't have children. So, now are you an unfit parent?[p;

  5. hysterical! you're right…you are meant to blog. :)
    poor sweet girl! the picture says it all!

  6. Poor Ali! I wish K had some of her cautiousness. We have at least twelve injuries a day. I swear that child could break a leg in a padded room. Ridiculously clumsy. Ugh.

  7. That "see Alice" thing is hilarious!

    Poor Ali's knees! I'll never forget the first time Rayna skinned her knees. We had just moved into our neighborhood so she was maybe 3. We took a walk around the entire neighborhood and when we got back to the house she got excited about seeing daddy in the yard she started running and tripped and fell. After all that walking, she fell as soon as we got home. LOL Which was good because we were close to the bandaids and all :)

  8. Oh my goodness! Have you ever discovered the magical healing powers of fancy bandaids?!?

    Nexcare make some that look like tattoos and I THINK they have a disney princess variety.

  9. My daughter is 8 and still has bloodied knees on a frequent basis! (sorry for that news).

    And she also used to sing the Viva Viagra commercial so much I was worried she might suggest her classmates sing it together!

  10. As you noticed in church Sunday, Evie does quite a bit of falling. Hence the long dress Sunday morning. Plus it hid a few other things. (:

  11. “Long pants!” Ha! That’s what my dad called them too (and we do too, I must confess). Along with “short pants.” Because article of clothing must have an equal and oppositely length item apparently.

    I think the horror at one’s own blood must be a firstborn thing.

    My second couldn’t care less, but my drama-king of a firstborn (who’s now 5 1/2) is pretty convinced he’s going to need a transfusion (and maybe a prosthetic body part anytime he scrapes encounters his own blood).

    1. Please ignore this version of my comment.

      I wish I knew how to delete it, in fact. I thought it didn’t go through and was so relieved because I saw some typos, and I abhor typos, even in comments (from me…from other people…eh, they’re fine).

      I was so happy to have a fresh start in life…er…commenting.

      And then…curses! I saw that it had posted after all, which made me seem both unintelligent and grammatically careless.

      Alas, I was not making the best first impression on my new blogging friend.

      Oh, and then I started writing a narrative in my “please don’t read this” note, and now I am officially a doofus.

      : \

  12. “Long pants!” Ha! That’s what my dad called them too (and we do too, I must confess). Along with “short pants.”

    Southern much?

    Because every article of clothing must have an equal and oppositely lengthy item, apparently.

    Oh, and I think the horror at one’s own blood must be a firstborn thing.

    My second couldn’t care less, but my drama-king of a firstborn (who’s now 5 1/2) is pretty convinced he’s going to need a transfusion (and maybe a prosthetic body part) anytime he encounters his own blood.

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