Pin Toes

Dear Readers:

Okay, it's hot off the press, and I'm sharing it with the cool crowd -- you cyberspace fans out there. My daughter gave me permission to share this newsworthy event. She has pin toes. It all started when she was shadowboxing at her momma's home. My phone rings at the bewitching hour of three a.m., and I hear loud noises in the background. Middle daughter is whooping and hollering after spearing her big toe on a needle.

She's busy doing the drama dance, so is indisposed. Little brother jumps on the phone and takes command. He tells me she's having a meltdown. I tell him to tell her to pull out the needle. Tactical failure -- little brother resists fatherly advise. He tells Big Daddy to come over and take it out. Big Daddy resists. "It's three in the morning," he says. Little brother resists. "It won't come out. It's bent." Big Daddy calls a time out, then regroups. Action resumes: "So tell her to go to the emergency room and get it pulled out."

Little brother still resists. "You're awake, why don't you come over? You're her dad." Big Daddy's feeling the heat and comes up with lame excuses. Finally he hangs up and all is silent, but he's unable to sleep. He calls little brother. "Tell middle daughter to come to my house, and I'll look at it." Too late. Middle daughter's momma already took her to hospital. At the hospital, a nice doctor x-rays her toe to make sure the needle didn't hit the toe bone. Then he pulls out the needle, and all is well.

Now, little brother goes to sleep, middle daughter goes to sleep, momma goes to sleep, and Big Daddy stays awake. His mind's racing from all the drama, and his eyes won't close. Never mind the fact he's been working long hours and really needs his rest. Big Daddy asks himself this question, "How come my kids say shrinks aren't real doctors, but when they need a thorn taken out, I'm supposed to make house calls?"

Until later.