Monday (Patriot's day for those of you who are from MA), my daughters were home and decided to go outside and rollerblade. I suggested they dig out their wrist guards, etc... No of course not, they are tough, they don't need no stinkin' wrist guards! While guess what!!?
I got to spend a big hunk of yesterday hustling one of em around from Pediatrician to Hospital to Orthopedic guy, and now we have a broken radius, ulna and and big honking pink cast. No not the lovely delicate waterproof gore-tex cast, but the huge, above-the-elbow fiberglass (looks like the old plaster type I had when I broke my arm) type. And Pink - Oh my God! It's practically neon. How do you sign a cast like that... Oh well. Live and Learn. Sometime's Dad knows what he's talking about.
At least the general level of embarrassment over actually having fallen and hurt herself kept her from wimpering too loudly or complaining about the consequences. It was her own damn fault. And in fact she was tough and did show great courage. Coming in the house, getting an ice pack and taking tylenol - all before informing me of the injury at all. Quite stoic! She is a cool kid.
Now the gym teachers who were having her do LONG-JUMPING before I picked her up for the trip to the pediatrician will think twice when a kid says they can't participate because they hurt themselves - jees, can you imagine if she had landed on her broken arm during gym! Wow!
7:12:13 AM 
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