When my son was an infant and daughter was three my husband was away on one of his many, many business trips and I was coming downstairs with the baby in my arms. As I got to what I thought was the last step to the floor I stepped and fell and sprained BOTH ANKLES! Couldn’t have been just one, no I had to snap both ankles! I heard such a loud crack when it happened that I thought I had broken them. A lovely neighbor rushed over to help put the babies to bed while I rubbed arnica on the bruises and applied ice and heat. Thank goodness for loving neighbors!

So many… ran my first hurdles event (an away meet, of course). Came in third, even after leaving my right knee and left wrist on the track. Ended up having knee surgery and still have a floating bone chip in the wrist, all these years later.

I’m just glad you’re okay… and that the Knight isn’t the only husband who sometimes lets a tickled funny bone slow him down.

I’m sure I do, but nothing comes to mind immediately. I suppose most any of the falls I’ve had over the past several years, especially when we called 911, and the medics would ask,”Anything hurt?” To which I would reply, “Only my pride.”

Lots of them, but the one that springs to mind is when I was rollerskating and just tipped over sideways without warning, stumbling or hitting anything. I broke my right leg in three places (all 3 below the knee) and had to be carried out of the roller rink on a concrete bench carried by 6 strapping young gentlemen.
It was just before I was supposed to attempt my drivers license for the 2nd time (first time I got chicken pox!)

My version of klutziness is dealing with mechanical stuff. For example I recently ordered a folding garden stool so I could kneel more easily in the garden. I unfolded it from its packaging, but then couldn’t fold it back down again. No directions.

I asked my wonderful neighbor Michael who folded it in a jiffy.

Years ago when I picked up a screw driver in front of my very young grandson he commented that it was “too heaby” for me. He certainly does understand his grandma.

Too many to count. I grew up with scabs on my knees. Most memorable was when I fell flat, on the sidewalk, in downtown D.C. and the two bicycle cops who showed up almost instantly and asked my husband if he had pushed me down! They were absolutely serious, too.

It’s something of a specialty for me to nearly trip on a flat floor. Just walk along and stub the bottom of my foot on the floor – so graceful.

My mom and I were visiting the family down the street one day when I was 12 or so- I enjoyed playing there a lot because they had 7 kids, bracketing me in age, and there was always something fun going on. They had an ancient chicken coop in the back yard (which doubled as a secret hideout, pirate ship, and various other kid pretend games) but that day the kids had found some old mattresses out in the barn and dragged them out in front of the coop. We could then clamber up the low back roof (there was a concrete retaining wall behind it for an extra step up), go over to the front of the roof- perhaps 6 feet off the ground- and then jump off onto the mattresses bounce-bounce-bounce.

We were having a grand old time until I tripped going down the front of the roof, fell off head-first, and landed flat on my back, completely missing the mattresses. I was winded and bruised but otherwise okay, and it wouldn’t have been anything major except my helpful little playmates went running in to their mother and mine and said, “Mom-mom-mom-Robin-fell-off-the-roof-and-now-she-can’t-breathe.”

Much parental excitement ensued, and we were all forbidden to play the jumping-off-the-roof game anymore. The other kids blamed me, of course, but I maintain it would all have been fine if *they* hadn’t panicked!