The Weakend

What do you get when you take a beach chair, a shower and a turtle? A big fat catastrophic weekend. A weekend that weakened the Tay big time. She walked away with a purple finger and a case of beachchairaphobia. Let me take you back in time.

Saturday: The scene: A beautiful morning on the screened-in porch. The weapon: A hot pink folding beach chair. The victim: Turtle. How it went down: Taylor was sitting in a pink beach chair, enjoying the warm summer air and chirping morning birds. When the beach chair ate her. It collapsed, swallowed Taylor and threw her down face first on the concrete. When I came to the rescue, she was folded, squished in the chair, laying flat on the ground, face first. Trapped like a Turtle in a pink shell.

Sunday: The scene: The shower in the master bath. The weapon: A glass sliding shower door. The victim: Turtle. How it went down: Taylor stepped into the shower, seeking one of her favorite reads: the shampoo bottle. And when she tried to shut the door behind her, it ate her finger. Smooshed for a few minutes, the tip of her tiny Turtle finger was purple. And remains that way.

Ahh, the joys of toddlerhood. Where every household item is a weapon of mass destruction.