Because if nothing happened, what would I write about?

So yesterday, D. wanted the ladder, which is not unusual. It’s true that many parents probably don’t let their children carry 8-foot ladders around and climb them at will, but in our house we call it Working on Gross Motor Skills.

Anyway, D. wanted the ladder, and he found it in the master bathroom, and then there was like a crashing sound, followed by D. howling.

“THE LADDER IS NOT A TOY,” I shrieked helpfully, as I stormed off to Mr. WG’s office with the offending hardware. Mr. WG chose to focus his attention on D., who was sobbing hysterically.

“Where does it hurt?” he asked him, and D. of course did not answer. “Do you want ice cream?”

“Yes,” cried D., and so he had some. And shortly thereafter, he fell asleep on the couch.



The day went on. Friends came for dinner. And one of them said D. was favoring his left arm. Much armchair doctoring took place, asking D. to bend and wiggle his fingers, lift his arm, and so on. Everyone was reasonably certain he was fine, so the decision was made to take him to the hospital for an x-ray.

Mr. WG and a friend took D. and everyone else cleared out. The other kids went to bed, and I cleaned the kitchen. I checked my email and called my good friend Teej to get her advice on dealing with a client. Business done, we sat and chatted. Forty minutes later, Mr. WG called my cell phone.

“Oh shit!” I said. “I totally forgot that he’s AT THE HOSPITAL WITH MY KID.”

So, OF COURSE, my kid has a broken arm.

They splinted him last night but couldn’t cast him because there was no on-call orthopedist. So today, I will spend my day begging random orthopedists to take my son and cast him. I would like it to be at a time that does not conflict with therapy with Mrs. Block or my interview with a client. When do you think I’ll get in?