Day before Easter I took Mozart on an Easter Egg Hunt. Two, to be exact. The first one was at Home Depot, and I wanted to go to that one because I thought the idea of hunting for eggs down the aisles was awesome. Each kid got to find two eggs, do a variety of projects (including egg dying, of course), and then watch whatever portion of Hop! they were interested in with popcorn, water, and more crafts provided. We had a blast! But the Easter Bunny did not make an appearance. Now, I could have cared less, and if I went solely on the reaction that Mozart had to the last Easter Bunny he ran into, then I would have left it at that, but since meeting said bunny the last time (even though he was afraid of it), that's all he was talking about.
So off we went to the second egg hunt of the day. This one was more traditional in style, and the bunny was present. Mozart, however, was done with the eggs and more interested in eating the candy found within and then running over to the play area.
That is where we got into trouble. He ran directly for the swings. Unfortunately there were three rather large children going full force on the swings and he was headed for disaster. I ran up behind him, swooped down, and saved him from being barreled into (much to his dismay - as evidenced by the intense screaming that ensued).
As I'm working on calming him down, though, I felt it coming: the tell tale signs that I'd put my back out and I'd best be very, very careful if I wanted to be able to walk the next day. I gingerly put him down, still trying to calm him down, and somehow - I don't think so gracefully - managed to get him and myself into the car to get home.
We missed the bunny, but Mozart was unfazed by that.
The rest of the weekend and through the week, I moved very carefully. The worst was Monday, when I think I may have looked somewhat like a zombie in my movements - you try to walk without moving your back at all. I got into the chiropractor on Tuesday and felt much better afterwards, but still in a fair amount of pain. And he prescribed two massages.
Oooooh, lovely, you may say. Yes. Well. There is no need to be jealous. While I do feel much better since having the first massage, the actual experience is a form of torture, I'm sure. She *said* that she wasn't touching me very hard, but lemme tell ya how my voice goes all falsetto and I can't quite breathe when she gets those certain muscles that are in the habit of twitching out on me these days. I had originally scheduled the second massage for Saturday, but she advised against that - she said there would be a chance I am still sore from the massage then, or that I wouldn't have been pain-free for long enough to continue to like her. I'm now scheduled two weeks out.
Seriously, if she were mugged, I think she could have the perp on his knees and offering up his own money within seconds. Good fun. But, I do feel a bit better now that I endured that little session in pain tolerance.
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