Well, we have our first broken bone. In a house full of boys I suspect it will not be our last. Sunday at the church's Fall Festival, on the very last ride down the bouncy slide, Spitfire broke his skinny, 'lil, knobby kneed chicken leg. All five of us headed to the ER in Halloween garb. Spitfire was a werewolf, Golden Curls was Dracula, and the Little Mister was a skeleton. I'm hoping to make him a mummy for Halloween trick-or-treating but I hear my time being sucked out the window!
Wereman before. After they gave him a shot for pain he made this face and then immediately relaxed back into his chair like a little stoner to talk about how he was no longer a tearful smiley on the pain chart but "more like a 2...no 1...no zero, I'm a zero."
Spookiest waiting room in town! I have such good boys that the wait was painless, we all just hung out doing our thing.
Spitfire was a little upset that they ended up needed to cut the leg off his werewolf pants but I reassured him we could put them back together for Halloween.
Pappa and Golden Curls pretending to be bored.
This is our whole clan pre-broken leg.
Cutest monsters I know!
I don't know what I expected from a broken bone, I've never had one so I guess I just thought it would hurt until they had it stable. No such luck! But by yesterday afternoon he had had a visit from some sweet friends, Pappa had brought his reading basket home from school and things were looking up. Last night he didn't wake up in pain and today he's seeming much more like himself...a little spitfire...hummm, I better watch my back! It's going to be a little tricky around here for a few months. He keeps the straight leg splint and stays home with Mamma until Monday then he gets a bent leg, non-walking cast for 6-8 weeks when we'll discover if a 5 year old can work crutches or has to be wheeled around in a chair. Just another of life's little adventures!
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