There’s nothing like a broken leg to turn a happy and sweet toddler into a very bitter girl. Don’t get me wrong. We enjoy a few fleeting moments of that which was our lovely daughter, but for the most part, she’s more like 69-year-old bitchy spinster who thinks we’re all to blame for her temporary grounding. Yes, it’s true. Miss Misery has come to stay and I fear she won’t be leaving for a very long time.
You know things are pretty bad when even your most famous pick-me-uppers don’t even get a call back.
Do you want to watch the baby? Wah.
How about the pig? Waaah.
Perhaps some *gulp* JoJo? Waaaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.
Do you want to take a walk outside? Evil look. WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH.
Even my highly entertaining reenactment of the 1969 original broadway cast version of A Chorus Line gets a resounding – you guessed it – WAH.
I imagine that at some point in her life, a broken leg wouldn’t have been that bad. I remember when my friend Julie broke her leg in 10th grade. She hit gold. All the guys would help her carry all her shit around. Sure, she missed a few track practices and had to be rolled around at the homecoming dance, but seriously, life had to be way better for her than my little gimpy toddler. There’s only so much ground you can cover as a 20-month old with a broken leg – and no kids will be stopping to help her out. Just when you’ve mastered the art of speed walking, rocking, and robotic dancing circa 1982, you’re stuck in a stroller with your mom pushing you around. It.really.sucks.
I’m sure she’ll figure out her own little way to maneuver around, and who knows, maybe she’ll get really good at hopping on one foot – a skill I consider quite advanced for a soon to be 2-something toddler. And statistically speaking, there’s only a very small chance she’ll even remember all of this. So, I might as well accept the fact that Miss Misery is here to stay, and if I’ve got to high kick and jazz hand my way through every morning, and smother her in the Muppets and chocolate cake just to get a little smile, then so be it. Because god knows she may forget about all this, but my bruised mommy ego is going to smart for a little while longer.
Update: 4 weeks in full leg cast - no walking. 2 weeks in short leg cast - walking allowed. And it seems Miss Misery has cheered up a little. Even after 2 hours of waiting in dr. office HELL. She's my trooper.