Freak Out

Nicole came back to my mom's house from a walk to the park in Grangeville. She told me she hurt her toe.

"I'll show it to you, but don't freak out, mom. It's reallly bad."

Really. Hmm. Is it hamburger, or a bloody pulp? Exactly how does she expect me to freak out? Am I supposed to cry or scream, or perhaps just faint?

It wasn't all that bad, but it looked like it hurt. She ripped a nice flap on the tip of her big toe. I was rather impressed she was keeping her composure so well. I was not, however, inspired to freak out. Maybe next time.

I took a photo of said-toe the next day specifically for blogging purposes, but it was a tad on the icky side, so I thought I'd spare you. Maybe next time.