So, we (let me say I for now) have been given the task of cleaning out her cage once a week. Well, last week I took the cage downstairs and took Emma out and started the process. I put Emma in her ball (a clear ball like that of Rhino the Hampster in the movie Bolt) and I put her on the counter wedged in between three different things. I walked out of the kitchen to the stairs and called up to Emily, "Em, are you coming down to help?" As soon as I finish saying that I hear crunch...and it doesn't register at first as I'm at the base of the stairs waiting for her...then it hits me..."OH S%*T! That was Emma!," I say to myself.
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I run into the kitchen to find Emma on the floor in her cracked ball and completely flat in the ball. "Emma! Emma! Are you okay??" She's looking at me and nothing. No twitchy nose, no eye movement, all cuteness was gone from her being." Now, of course I start beating myself up and thinking 'Oh, great, I get to have the death conversation with my daughter and I CAUSED IT!'
I open up the ball and gently rub her nose and back hoping that she's still alive and can walk. She looks at my like I'm crazy and moves her nose. "Thank God!," I whisper and Emily still isn't downstairs yet, which is not a blessing. Emma's looking at my like "are you f$%king nuts leaving me on the counter?!?" I starting thinking about it and it's the equivalent of a human being falling off of a 30 story building with surrounded by a kids backyard plastic playhouse. Wow, that's a big fall. Now, I'm just glad she's okay but can she actually move? Slowly she does and I breathe a heavy sigh of relief.
Emily comes down and as I'm cleaning the cage she is petting Emma and I tell her what happened. She doesn't seem too phased by it but wants a new ball for Emma. I'm just glad that we don't have the death conversation. Fun times!
