By JB Stanley
This has been some month. I was in a car accident (my fault), lost one of a pair of diamond earrings that my parents gave me for Christmas six years ago, and on Monday, my son broke his arm.
'Tis the season to be jolly? Bah Humbug!
There's nothing like an afternoon in the emergency room with a 5-year-old in pain and a 2-year-old missing her nap to propel one's outlook on life into a state of misery.
The funny thing - and I only saw the humor in it much later this week - was that my son and I broke the same arm, in nearly the same place, in the same manner (being clumsy on the playground). When he screamed during the x-rays, I almost screamed right along with him. Even though I was in the third grade when I received my arm-wrenching ER films, I distinctly recall how painful those x-rays were.
All is better today. He's got a cast. I drew SpongeBob on it. His school buddies have signed it. I've bought 3 zip-up cardigans, a down vest, and cut the cuff from his pajama top. I've got to dress him, help him eat, aid him with homework, and try to stop him from jumping, leaping, running, and sliding as every 5-year-old does naturally. I'm exhuasted and Christmas is a week away!
How about you? Ever broken a bone? Was the timing amazingly bad? Tell me your story.