No, not the movie.
Jacob fractured his right wrist Sunday night.
He and his friends were playing in the front yard, happily running around and giggling, so I figured it was safe to take a shower.
I come out of the shower and hear the kids. I sorta hear some crying, but it sounded more like whining so I tuned it out. Then, I hear real cries.
Shit! That’s mine.
I go outside (in my friggin towel!) and Jacob is lying on the front lawn crying. My neighbor is talking to him trying to find out what hurts. His wrist.
Apparently, the kids were taking turns picking each other up by arms and legs, swinging and then tossing. Jacob, obviously, was the last
victim participant. He flew, flipped, landed on his wrist and the metal drain cover.
Seriously, I thought he was faking/milking it, but I took him to the ER anyway.
Yeah, fractured distal radius.
He’s now sporting a fetching green cast clear up to his armpit. They want to be sure he doesn’t move the bones at all, so they completely immobilized the arm. We go back on Monday to see the progress and talk about what the next step is (at some point it will be reduced to just a forearm cast).
See, I *knew* I’d be doing the ER runs for broken bones at some point. I mean, I have a BOY for crying out loud, but for some reason, I thought I’d make it at LEAST to double-digits before he broke his first bone.
**will post pictures later from home**