Pedestrian crossings are not just to look at

My dad sent me an email today that said he thinks I am obsessed with my laundry. Awww...someone's been reading my blog.

Well, we had our quintessential American experience yesterday as one of us finally got hit by a car. I've sort of been prepared for it. I'm surprised it took this long. The paramedic diagnosed it at the scene. "You looked the wrong way, didn'tcha?" She can't remember. It was only her foot, nothing broken thankfully, but it's banged up pretty good. We did the obvious parent ranting about paying attention, could have been your head, that's what the pedestrian underpass is for, you must take personal responsibility, etc. It's a well worn speech. In the end, she will return to school with a very bruised foot and ego, but maybe safer in the long run.

These things used to COMPLETELY freak me out. The sinking feeling that comes from clear evidence that you must be a crap parent. Where oh where did I go wrong? WHAT ARE WE GOING TO DO? Where can I get a self-help book that I can make Chip read and summarize for me? I must be getting old. I didn't freak out. She's hobbling back to school tomorrow per the doctor's orders even if it hurts and she'll figure it out as she always does. This injury was my second trip to the John Radcliffe Hospital in one month with a family member. I am sure Munchausens by proxy will come up if they ever see me there again. "There's that bizarre American woman again. She seems too calm, doesn't she?"

Tomorrow our friends arrive from the U.S. via London. We are so excited to show them around. The pubs.