a Malcolm de Chazal quote
If this is true, then color Emberly the epitome of idealism. For the last few months we have been harping on Emberly to not walk on her tiptoes. The constant reminders were becoming tiresome. If you were to make a drinking game out of our harping, even the most seasoned drinker would be on their lips within an hour upon arriving at our house.
It was cute the first few times she’d respond with, “I’m just being like a ballerina, Mom.” Who am I to quash my child’s dreams of becoming the next Clara in The Nutcracker.
I mean, she could be my meal ticket people! But before I was even able to cash the yet to be written checks any stage mom deserves while living vicariously through their own more successful and talented children, my Emberly’s dreams were dashed. Her toes were starting to curl in much like the Wicked Witch of the East’s, thrusting her towards OFF-off-Broadway hobbling troll parts. While she does have a cute impish look to her at times, the way bunions run rampant on both sides of our lineage pushed us to a consult with the orthopedic specialist at Children’s Hospital.
My biggest fear was that the doctor would do what most do best and instruct us to just “wait and see.” It’s not that I wanted something to be wrong with Emberly, we’re no Munchausen family, it’s more that I knew something needed to be done. Her big toes were pushing more and more towards her pointer toe. (what is the nickname for the second toe in? Basing it on finger names, one can assume it’s the pointer toe. Let’s stick with that. How could it be wrong?) I wanted to make sure it was taken care of before it became debilitating.
So off we went, a two hour drive one way to see our new best friend. After moving Emberly’s legs and feet seven ways from Sunday, we were instructed to remove all her clothes, minus her underwear (same rules as at home! Parenting win!) and walk with her down the main hall. The doctor joked that it was a good thing she wasn’t 14. Inside, I was relieved that she wasn’t 14 and as okay with it as she was now. Naturally she walked perfectly flat footed the first lap. The doctor then had her race daddy. While most of us don’t tiptoe through the tulips while frolicking, Emberly stood higher than a kite on the very tips of her toes. Nothing was holding her back from beating her father at a foot race.
Several options were thrown out as far as treatments, from surgery to botox. It was agreed that Emberly’s case was minor and mostly habit. So instead of even more costly treatments (and I’m sorry, but my child is not getting botox before her mother!) we agreed upon these:
If you don’t focus on the creepy circa 1970’s clown inspired boots, I think they’re pretty kickin.
Emberly seems to agree:
She has a shortened regimen since we’re mainly trying to break the habit and stretch her slightly tight tendons. Two weeks in these bad boys. Tomorrow we’re going back for a new set. After two weeks in those, we should be golden. Just no mention of the tiptoes, which is easier said than done. She is currently obsessed with informing everyone that she had to go to the doctor because she walked on her tiptoes. I don’t think she’ll be forgetting that anytime soon.
Completely unrelated, and most likely inappropriate considering this was a post about my daughter, the 12 year old boy in me couldn’t resist letting everyone know that this is my 69th blog post. teeheehee. Milestones!