The Fly

My daughter, Sydney, calls all flies "fruit flies" ever since I explained to her about why we should not leave watermelon sitting around in the kitchen. Last night I was resting on the couch with my leg wrapped, elevated, and icing when a fly landed on my foot. My natural reaction was to shake my leg to get it off. So I did and it nearly killed me! It's still in quite a bit of pain from the surgery and I've been moving it as little as possible the last few days. So my impulse to shake my leg (which barely even moved) not only resulted in a huge amount of pain, but failed to get the fly off my foot. So I was screaming because it hurt and yelling, "Get it off! Get if off!" My mom, Josh, and Sydney were all looking at me like I'd lost my mind. They didn't know how badly I'd hurt myself. So today, I did something - I think I may have tipped over my water bottle or something like that - and I gave a little yell. Sydney comes running over and asks, totally serious and concerned, "What's wrong mama? Did a fruit fly get you?"