Hey all!
Well, you know the bike? Ya, the one I drove into the house...that one. Well the other night I was having a craving for chocolate. So, my very sweet husband offered to go and get me some. He left on his bicycle while I bathed the girls. A few minuets later I heard him coming up the stairs with a bit of a grumble and thought nothing of it. I got Liza out of the tub and dried her off and sent her on her way to find Daddy. Not long after I sent her out she came back in and said that daddy was hurt. So I ran into the bedroom and found Ryan laying our our bed, face down with road rash. I instantly went into "Mom mode" and got him ice and advil. Once I had him situated I asked him what had happened. He told me that he was clicked into his bike and must have hit some gravel and went down. FAST FORWARD! Of course as the days went on, his wounds got much darker and bigger. So I said to him once again, "how in the world did this happen if you just hit some gravel and fell"? Ahh, so then he tells me the REST of the story......he was doing a wheelie. :) Sorry to those of you who may not be interested in seeing my husband's behind.

So, he got his sympathy for a few days....and right at about the word wheelie (which I had to have him repeat so I could make sure my ears heard correctly) the sympathy train LEFT!