It’s crazy how common people communicate through technology when they are in the same vicinity as each other. My dad will call me to bring him ice cream; My roommate with instant message me when my headphones are on; I will send my sister a text when she is in the bathroom; ext.

My mom called me at 11 a.m. today from the front yard.

“What,” I said when I answered, assuming she was going to have me go out of my way to get her a diet coke or something.

“I think I broke my leg,” she said.

20 minutes later I had called for an ambulance and was standing in the Emergency Room. I arrived before she did, so I wandered around and made friends with some paramedics, getting them to let me bypass the waiting room and go directly with my mom.

The thing is, my mom insisted on getting the bike for Christmas, but five days later, she lands herself in the hospital. What does that teach us? To not get her gifts, clearly. I have been hit on my bike, crashed it, fallen off of it and plenty more, yet I have never broken anything or really even gotten seriously injured. Then my mom tries to bike up a three-foot-high hill in our front yard, hits a ditch and takes being uncoordinated to a whole new level.