Face Plant

I took Sarah ice skating this weekend again. She was off like a lunatic as usual, refusing my outstretched hand.

On our final lap around the rink, disaster struck. I heard a thud and turned around to find Sarah sprawled face down. I lifted her face gently, expecting to find cracked teeth and busted lips. Instead, I found a scratched cheek and streams of full, round tears. This was followed by ear piercing howling, understandably.

Through her wailing, I got her out of her skates and into my arms. And by the time the Zamboni was circling the ice, her crying had stopped and her pleads for marshmallows had started.

Luckily, she's fine. I'd show you a picture of her bruised, scraped cheek, but she will not let me photograph it. She told me, "It's rude to take pictures of hurt people." And rude is not for me.

Instead, I'll show you a photo from a few weekends ago after we finished cross-country skiing. Sarah was hopped up on chocolate and endorphins from all of the exercise. I'm certain that photographing this type of lunacy is not rude, not rude at all.