I'm in agony. Well, maybe agony is a strong word, but I am in pain. Maddox and I were playing a grand new game, I call it mad chase of the poppers. We take turns chasing each other around the house pushing these "poppers", it's noisy, sweaty, and great fun. Bending over to push these poppers is good exercise but I can only take so much, then I must fall to the ground and take a breather. (If I'm laying flat on the floor Maddox will give me about 30 seconds rest before he starts shoving a "popper" in my face to have another go. Otherwise I get no break from the fun.) After a couple of these time-outs Maddox decided that launching himself into the air and landing on my stomach was an equally effective method of getting me moving again. Thus, we finally get to the title of this post. Maddox, too excited to contain himself, launched himself a few feet short of my stomach. He did a belly flop onto the floor and in an attempt to "save" him, please keep in mind that I was laying flat on the floor, somehow only succeeded in jamming a finger into his head. HE is just fine, peachy keen in fact. My finger, however, is twice the size it should be. I'm blaming the whole thing on the "poppers", I wouldn't recommend owning one (or two, like us). So here I am still traumatized and in pain from the experience and guess what game Maddox requested first thing this morning?