Yesterday, my daughter got into some sort of accident which shoved a piece of wood underneath her left big toenail. Poor kid. I managed to get it out with a pair of tweezers and a very small precision screwdriver, but not without the help of my husband, who had to hold her down and hold her foot still so that I could grab the splinter with the tweezers. When we finally got the thing out, it was probably about half an inch long and about an eighth of an inch wide. My daughter was profuse in her gratitude and we were both shaking when it was all over. Considering the size of the sliver and the emotional ordeal we'd both been through, I thought it wise to take her to Baskin Robbins for icecream. While we were there, we met some rodeoers from Oklahoma who were here for the fair and said that they had just pulled a nail from the heel of one of their horses because it was placed wrong and giving the horse pain. I felt sorry for the horse and the rodeoers seemed nice, too. After that, we went to Hastings and bought some books for me and a stuffed owl for my daughter. We both agreed that, even if we knew ice cream would be involved, we never wanted to go through that again. Ever.