Stew Miller Musings and Rants
I Complain (Oh, and Doodle), You Read and/or Comment, Everyone is Happy… IT’S SO SIMPLE!

Broken Little Wing

     So my little girl, Addison,  broke her arm last week. Yeah, that’s right, broke her arm. I get the ever-frightening call from my wife while I was at work telling me that she’d taken a nasty spill and was obviously bawling because of it. Not my wife, Addison. Although I think I distinctly recall her on the verge of tears as well… you know, par for the course in this case. Anyway I remember thinking to myself, or possibly in my out loud voice, “I’ll bet it’s just a stunner, like what you get when you bash your funny bone or whatever and your whole arm goes numb.” I, of course, was wrong.

     So Amy and her mom took Addy to the walk-in clinic -basically a Band-Aid Barn with significantly more polite staff with needles- and proceded to expeditiously rush through the process of getting the arm taken care of. Oh, and by expeditiously, I mean within three hours. Yeah, I’d tend to think that a broken arm might just take presidence over, oh, say a snotty nose or a pink eye. I, of course, was wrong… again. Her right arm was bandaged and placed in a sling. And then they remembered it was her left arm, and they wrapped that one instead. I tell ya, those people. So, after the better part of an afternoon, they brought her home just after I got home and, well, the little beauty was done up right in a soft cast and a far-too-large sling. Oh, sure, she was in a bit of pain that day for sure and it took a significant number of tranq darts to put her down.

     So we moved on through the weekend and little powerhouse Addy has been basically forgetting the fact that her little wing is immovable at the moment and she’s pretty sure she can do everything the same way, anyway. She flips around and picks stuff up like nothing ever happened… that is until one of her brothers (Simon I am looking in your direction) decides to carelessly clobber her in the elbow thereby sending daggers of agony lancing through her shattered bone. Then she’ll generally just bite him.

     We went with the Waltz Compound to Ramona Park again this weekend and we decided to let Addy swim. So we did the old rubberband and a bread bag trick which, after several hours in the lake, proved to be just short of useless. Yeah, it leaked and so, being the absolute genius that I am, I poked a few holes in it to let the water out which, in turn, allowed more water to flow back in. I am smart. Regardless, we all had a blast and enjoyed or time together as always. As a little side note here, it is so much fun doing a minute by minute head count when the Waltz Collective has 4 children and we have 3. I think it was easier for us to find their kids and them to find ours… I guess, who knows, I think we almost left with someon else’s kid.

     Fast forward to Sunday night after the lake, Addison has a soggy arm and a tired disposition. It’s nappy time for our little wounded swimmer. Three hours later it is dinner time, we go in to the bedroom to wake the wee one from her beauty rest, and she has, for lack of a better term, exploded. It looked as though someone had taken a full bowl of chili and tossed it all over her legs and the crib. Ghastly. So you see, no matter how laid-up this princess ought to be, no matter how much we try to comfort her and keep her safe, she somehow knows that her spill over the toy that broke her tiny arm is still, somehow, our fault. And she certainly showed her appreciation for it, too. Poop is such a lovely gift.



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