I Need an Icepack

My family didn't believe in ice growing up. I remember friends asking for ice water a couple of times. No, we do not have ice, was all I could say. I never knew what an icepack was nor its purpose until I hurt my ankle playing high school basketball. My coach suggested that I stick my foot in an entire bucket of ice water. I don't really like being cold so I opted out. It seemed utterly ridiculous to suffer through all kinds of coldness just to avoid some swelling.

Some months ago, my 6-year-old daughter, Grace, was complaining about a headache. I tried everything to stop her whining and then finally offered her a ziploc full of ice. It worked. Since then, the kids are constantly asking for them. I try to explain that an icepack will not do anything for a tummy ache, a hurty finger, nor a stuffy nose. But they continue to ask. It should have come as no surprise, then, when I stepped on a big pile of ice chunks on the kitchen rug. If I am not going to get an icepack for them, they'll get one themselves. I came downstairs to find Grace cuddled up on the couch with an icepack pressed gingerly against the bruise on her cheek that she received yesterday while wrestling with Andre. I just shook my head and sighed. What kind of craziness was this? Then I took a photo.

I was asked to substitute for two different indoor soccer teams tonight. They were both co-ed, which I usually avoid, but since I ate 19 sugar cookies yesterday I thought I could afford to burn a few calories. Regrettably during my first game, about 10 minutes in I was matched up against a guy who thought he was Ronaldo. In about two seconds I managed to get up against the wall and while kicking the ball, receive a swift knee to my ankle. I fell down briefly and then tried to stand but was unable to do so. As I hopped over to the sideline, I had only one thought going through my head..."I think I need and icepack."