Broken

Not anyone in our family has broken a bone. I can't say that anymore. It wasn't me or Ashley. It wasn't even Bryce. It was Brenna. She took a tumble off the side of the slide in our backyard one evening. With big crocodile tears, she came inside and blamed it on Bryce (he didn't do it). I couldn't tell anything was wrong. I sent her back out to play. She wouldn't go. I had her lay down while I finished dinner. When the crying wouldn't stop, I went to check her out again. By now (it wasn't too long), her wrist had finally started swelling. At the clinic, she was put in a soft cast that was wrapped in purple. Brenna was good with the color. Purple is one of her favorites. Two weeks later she was able to have a short hard cast. This one was pink, waterproof, and everyone could write on it. She even got to show it to Santa.


I think she enjoyed showing it to everybody she met. Most people were able to sign it, but with a warning, "Don't wite big!" A girl has to save room for more people to sign her cast.

The broken wrist didn't slow her down for long. Soon, she was seen running with the sling flapping behind her. The only side effect was a couple of extra bruises on her because she couldn't catch herself if she tripped. I hope that this is the only broken bone in our house. It was enough for me.