Monday, October 29, 2012

Why stop at just five broken bones?

I figure that's surely what my little guy is thinking.  I mean eight emergency room visits, five broken bones, and a life full of clumsy, yeah, why stop at just five?  The little dude has been sporting a tape/splint/etc. since Friday when he tripped over air (this has happened a lot) and fell, injuring his pinky.

Little guy on the phone on Friday:  "Mom, can you pick me up from the bus stop?  I hurt my pinky."

Me:  "Why?  You don't need your pinky to walk home, use your legs and feet."

Little guy:  "Pleeeeeease, mom.  It's five times the normal size!!!"

Me:  "OK, but it better look bad."

So how did it look?  Well, maybe "twice its normal size" would have been a more accurate representation of the digit.  And painful, without a doubt.

Me:  "So, I suppose no karate then tonight, eh?"

Little guy:  "No, I'm fine for karate."

OK, so I'm sure you're seeing the not-making-sense part of this as well, right?  Anyway, one karate class, at least five or six hard-core football scrimmages in the front yard, and several wrestling matches later, we're heading to the bone-ologist tomorrow to have it x-rayed and diagnosed.

Tune in tomorrow to hear the latest!

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