Remember last night, Mary Grace told me that I didn't understand her pain? I'm afraid she might have been right.
Last night, after she got hurt, BJ, our friend Jim, and I all looked at her foot. There was no swelling, no bruising, she could bend her toes, there was no reason to suspect that it was anything other than drama. We gave her an ice pack, and told her to quit being such a drama queen.
This morning she woke up at 6 am and hopped to the bathroom (waking BJ up in the process). So she was being consistent with her symptoms. She refuses to put any weight on her foot. I had to keep her home from school (she can't hop all day long, right?). Happily, her annual physical was already scheduled for today. We'll be there in about an hour.
Dad came over this morning and looked at her. He thinks it's sprained.
I didn't even give the poor kid a Tylenol before I put her to bed last night.
I am officially the Worst Mother Ever.
The irony of it all? I went to the doctor myself, yesterday, because of some hormonal weirdness that's been going on since after Jack was born, and I told BJ that it was so nice to have a doctor who listened to me, after having everyone think I was a crazy hypochondriac my whole life (because when you start getting migraines when you're 5 years old, people tend to think you're a crazy hypochondriac). And then, the very same day, I thought MG was being a crazy hypochondriac. I totally suck.