It seems as though we have started a pattern.
Every weekend someone has to get hurt.
There is a history of this in my immediate family. For years we dreaded the 4th of July. Without fail something would befall one of us kids. One year I burned my hand badly, another year my brother had an encounter with the sharp end of a board that may or may not have been partially my fault.
Last weekend, Elena got kicked by a horse.
Remember that Katie is playing on her first softball team?
And that she is playing catcher?
Well, see that ball headed toward her glove? Evidently even at age 10 the pitcher has enough oomph behind her throws that if you put your ungloved hand up before the ball smacks nice and secure into your gloved hand, you can do damage to said hand.
She complained about her little finger a bit and because I am a kind and concerned mother, I told her to put some ice on it, gave her some Motrin and returned to whatever I was doing.
And then when it looked more swollen this morning I sprang into action by giving her more Motrin and more ice.
Then I made her practice piano.
Turns out her songs have a lot of notes requiring the use of the right hand’s fifth finger.
Oh, and when one of my friends suggested that it might be broken, I promptly poo-pooed her.
But then I went upstairs and found Katie behind her closed bedroom door with big old tears in her eyes. She looked at me pitifully and said, “Mama, it really hurts.”
Yeah, I guess it did.
Cause it was broken.
Her piano teacher is going to be thrilled. I’m steeling myself for a scolding. Piano teachers sometimes don’t understand parents who put their children’s fingers in harm’s way.
Luckily it looks like she’ll only be out of commission for a week.
I can’t wait to see what next weekend has in store!