Could this be #9 and counting?

So my little guy finally went to the bonologist today after telling me he needed to see a doctor about his foot...for a week now. 


Little guy:  "I think my foot is broken.  It really hurts, mom.  I need to see the doctor."

Me:  "Put some ice on it."

Little guy:  "The cold hurts."


Little guy:  "Mom, it's feeling worse every day, not better.  I need to see the doctor."

Me:  "Let's just wrap it up in an ace bandage.  Better?"

Little guy:  "Not really."


Little guy:  "I can't walk."

Me:  "Do you think we need to make an appointment with the bonologist?"

Little guy:  "Sigh...."


Anyway, he did go to the doctor this morning.  And while they didn't find anything conclusive on the x-rays, his diagnosis was a bone bruise or fracture and he's been fitted with a lovely and large boot that he has to wear for three weeks.  I know, I know, worst mom of the year here.

And I should know better by now, I really, really should.  After all, he's already broken eight bones.  The dude knows when he's broken.

But it's all fine.  I love my kid, he loves me...and now my inner crafty chick has a few weeks to figure out how to make that heavy boot fit in with all the casts and splints on the "injury" mobile I created for him a few years back.

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