I'm sitting here talking to the Smart One. He's had a rough day. Jumped off his sister's loft bed, hit his cousin's bed below and then his feet flipped backwards, leaving him to land on his face, but he used his hands to block....and whalla!
We left urgent care with a splint from his fingers to his shoulder. Looks like it is a fracture of the growth plate in his elbow. We see the orthopedic surgeon tomorrow morning.
So, as we're sitting here discussing the fact that he leaves for camp on Sunday morning for a week...and he may have a full cast...I wonder about his hair; who's going to wash it, how will he shower, what will he do at the beach....
And he bursts out, "That's not what I am worried about, mom!"
Oh?
He's worried about the fact that he'll have one arm darker than the other!
And for all the guy readers out there...he states it was a cool fall, just in case his mom is making him look not so smart after all.
