An Olympic Gymnast?

Apparently my daughter aspires to greatness. We realized this morning that she must have been born to be an Olympic gymnast.

She is small; she has a lot of energy, and she is unstoppable.

We've been watching the Olympics obsessively since they started, and I think that Abby finally realized her calling.

I'm hoping that Michael Phelps will have a child soon (who knows, those things happen) and Abby can marry him. It would be perfect.

I digress, however. This morning, Abby slept late (8:45); we were astounded, so at 10:00 it was naptime.

We are blessed because she still takes two rather longs naps a day, one in the morning and one at night.

Unfortunately, she did not think that 10:00 was an appropriate time for a nap today, and she cried and wailed when we put her in her crib.

Here's where the Olympic spirit comes in.

After 30 minutes or so of crying, we heard a loud "kathump" and then Abby crying.

She had undone the locks on her crib, and the side, which is hinged all the way across, had fallen down, and Abby had tumbled out.

She didn't stick the landing.

It didn't hurt her; although, I was ready to put her in the car and go immediately to the ER because you never know what happens internally when a child falls.

My brother-in-law got a frantic call from us asking whether or not she was okay. How he would know is beyond me since he was at his house 10 minutes away, but anyway. Kenny was insistent that she was okay because for some reason "God protects kids and drunks," he said.

All that to say, our future Olympian is now in her bed with the hinged side securely against the wall and her parents looking at expensive retirement homes.