Yesterday Bryant took Mali up Buttermilk, a local ski hill that hasn't opened yet. They hiked to the top using his AT gear and turned around to ski down. She was playing with sticks as usual and trying to keep up with her daddy skiing down the mountain. He didn't see her come up behind him and turned right into her with the back of his skis. The edge of his ski cut into her front leg. At first he didn't think much of it because she ran the rest of the way and hopped right into the truck, but when he got her home, he realized it was worse than he thought.
He took her to the weekend vet and they dug a rock out of the hole, repaired a tendon and stitched up the wound. Poor Mali has a soft cast up to her shoulder. My nieces stopped by last night to sign it and cheer her up. She was so drugged up she hardly noticed.
This morning she was much better. She was able to hobble around outside and go potty without much encouragement.
Bryant and I couldn't help but laugh at our (over)reaction to her being hurt. And he brought up the fact that we are having a little boy, so we probably have many many nights of nursing wounds and broken bones in our future. Isn't it funny how the Lord can use these experiences to prepare us for what's in store?!
I took more pictures of pitiful Mali but left my camera at home. The one above is from my phone.
Until the next adventure!
Becca, Bryant and Mali Burger
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