my fifth metatarsal

Whilst playing a game of hide and seek 

I crept down the stairs without a creak.

Erikboy was on seven. (I had until nine.)

Three stairs left, and plenty of time.

My goal was to hide without being seen, 

the couch? the window? somewhere between?

But those last three stairs. They doled out a snarl, 

and left me to land on my fifth metatarsal.

A SNAP! And a POP! I cried out in pain.

Erikboy stopped counting and found me again.

As I tucked my head between my knees, 

I saw three pirates planted like trees.

I cried. And then chuckled. And then mixed the two. 

Robs came to ask if my foot was yet blue. 

Erikboy asked quietly "Mom, why did you laugh?" 

Squish hadn't moved since my unfortunate gaffe.

I googled. And painkilled. And kept myself put.

Whilst researching what to do with my foot.

It seems when you hurt your fifth metatarsal, 

you ice, you elevate, and sit on your arsal.

So I sat for an hour, (that seems a bit much)

and stood with the aid of a nice, silver crutch. 

And now after dinner and bathtime too,

my foot's dreamy. A lovely, subcutaneous blue.