Have A Nice Trip!

We've established before that walking with Juliana has a certain challenge to it.  If you imagined that this was merely a passing phase, you were wrong. 

Last Tuesday found us at the San Diego airport on our way back from the wedding.  We'd gotten there with plenty of time to spare, as I am afflicted with Pathologically Early Personality Disorder and I'd been enjoying sitting and working my way through an In Style magazine while the kids played their gameboys.  As boarding time approached, Juliana and I visited the bathroom.  I made my way across the gate area with her right on my heels.  Striding purposefully, I headed to the bathroom door.  Suddenly I felt myself lifted off of my feet.  I hung in the air, parallel to the ground, for a disproportionate amount of time.  While airborne, I realized that my darling sprite of a daughter had tangled up her feet in mine and completely laid me out.  I fell to the ground in an anvilicious way, landing hard on my right hip, elbow, and the heel of my right hand. Lying there on the floor just outside the airport bathroom, I tried to gather my senses. I felt grateful for the carpeting which most likely prevented my wrist bone from snapping and ripping jaggedly through my skin.  Juliana looked at me in horror and asked if I was all right.  I gathered every bit of parental fortitude, clenched my hands into fists and resisted the urge to backhand her.   How could I be mad at her for loving life so much that she needs to skip and dance through it?  Fuck that, the little twerp nearly put me into traction.  I hauled myself up off the floor and  gave her lecture #763,000 on moving her body carefully through space and using her walking feet.  But next time we travel, I'm packing a helmet.