There I was. Happily making some tuna melts -- I know! Real food! -- Anyway, there I was when Chaco enters the house all moaning and groaning like. He'd just gone out a few minutes earlier to rollerblade. Dang rollerblades again.
Anyway, he's all, "Aaaauugh!! My wriiiiiiiist!! I can't move my fingerrrrrrrz!! It's swellinnnnnng!!" So I told him, once he stopped freaking out, I'd take a look at it. I don't think he believed me at first as the wailing and gnashing of teeth continued. Well, I got the tuna melts loaded up anyway. I guess I've been through these traumas enough to have become a bit desensitized.
In the meantime, I got some ice. This was the same wrist he'd broken about 3 1/2 years ago. We iced it. We wrapped it. We ate tuna. After dinner, there was discussion. Should I take him to the urgent care center? Should we just wait and see how it feels in the morning?
Wolfgang, Mr. Pragmatic, said, "He should go tonight. That way, if it's not broken, he won't have to miss school." I had to admit, that made sense, so off we went for a lovely evening of waiting around the urgent care center, occassionally looking out at the nice view of the parking lot from our cell.
In about 2 hours, we had our verdict. Not broken, just strained/sprained. He needs to wear this lovely brace for about a week. Had him braced and back home in time to catch the season premier of "The Office". Off to school he would go.
After having been at school for about an hour, Chaco calls. "I can't write, so my teacher suggested I just go home". What's this? He can't just sit there and absorb knowledge through other means?? I figured he wasn't faking because he actually likes going to school. That's how boring I keep it around here when someone misses a school day.
So he stayed home. Bored. With his non-broken but non-writing wrist. A day in the life of Mom.
I'm sure he'll be chomping to go back on Monday.