Well, that didn’t seem quite so long. Ryne finally got his cast off today. So he looks like this again:
It was kind of anti-climactic since we’ve been building up to this with him for a while now, counting down the days until his arm lost its thin non-candy shell. He and I even had a long discussion last night about what it meant now that he would be without his cast. I know most of you wouldn’t understand much of what he said, but luckily I speak baby and am able to interpret it for you. So, without further ado, here is the entirety of our conversation from last night…
Dad: You know what happens tomorrow, right?!?!?!?!?!?
Son: Yes, you go to work and Mommy and I go to where they make me play with educational toys and do Jazzercise.
Dad: Nope, not tomorrow, tomorrow you go get your cast off so you can finally use your arm again!
Son: I’ve been using my arm. See, look (He smacks my arm with it). Want to see me use it again?
Dad: Ouch! that hurts buddy! You’ve got to be gentle.
Son: Geez, sorry Dad, didn’t realize you were such a delicate flower.
Dad: Well, now you know… So, are you excited to get your cast off?
Son: To be honest, I’m kinda disappointed. I like to use it to pretend my arm is bionic, like the six dollar man.
Dad: That’s the six million dollar man, son, and besides, who knows what he’d be worth with today’s prices of materials, then factor in union labor costs, government red tape on melding human and machine, and the…
Son: Dad! Dad! Whoa there! I believe your train has derailed. I said I like to pretend. In pretend land, there is no inflation or cost of living increases.
Dad: You’re right, I’m sorry. It’s been a long time since I’ve played pretend. I used to pretend I was Michael Jordan.
Son: Wow, that had to be some pretty difficult pretending.
Dad: I was a lot better at hoops than you might think. Shoot, maybe I still am. Anyway, I, for one, am really glad you are getting your cast off because it made me sad when you broke your arm.
Son: What does it mean to break your arm anyway? When my toys break you usually fix them with a screw driver or some new batteries. I didn’t get any new batteries.
Dad: Well, it means the bone in your arm, your humerus , had a little bitty fracture in it and you had to have a cast put on to keep your arm from moving at the elbow so that the fracture could grow back together. You’re actually quite lucky you didn’t need screws. That happens sometimes.
Son: Lucky? I bet I’m the only 23 month old to have ever had a broke arm. And I most certainly didn’t find it humorous.
Dad: Well, it happens a lot more often than you think. And it’s H-U-M-E-R-U-S. It’s a different word than the one that means funny.
Son: Really? So tell me what happened when you broke your arm when you were my age.
Dad: Actually, I’ve never had a broke arm…or leg. But I did have my pinky dislocated once when I was on tour with Tim Byrne and our friends in Philmont.
Son: Prove it.
Dad: Ok, here:
Dad: Yep, it took one doctor holding my arm and two doctors pulling on my finger to pop it back into place.
Son: Ugh, Dad…please tell me this isn’t some elaborate “Pull My Finger” joke.
Dad: No, Son, I was just telling you about the time I had a boo boo like yours.
Son: Well, thank you Dad. I appreciate you trying to relate your little pinky boo boo to my bone with A BREAK IN IT!!!
Dad: Well, you’re welcome. Just remember, that break in your arm has a matching one on my heart.
Son: I love you too, Dad.