Sunday night Miss Fia came in from the back yard crying that her shoulder hurt. E looked her over, she looked fine, and I told her to go rest in her room until she was done crying. (Stellar parenting at work here) I checked on her a few minutes later to find her on her bed, leaning at an angle against the headboard and cradling her right arm - still silently sobbing. I hoofed back down the stairs and told E I thought maybe she wasn't faking after all. He swooped in and carted her away to the emergency room in a flash (full-on-protective daddy mode = awesome).
Such a trooper she was, snoozing during the long E.R. wait, and toughing it out through the x-rays and exam which likely hurt like crazy. Now the trick is to get her to slow down for the 4-6 week healing process her broken clavicle needs. Monday morning she began a verbal chronicling of all the things she can't do now. The list included writing letters to grandparents, practicing the piano and riding her bike. She won't begin soccer practice with the rest of her team, and she won't participate in p.e. at school.
After a couple of lazy, restful days, I asked her to try tidying her room by putting a few things away. She said she was really planning to tidy her room... in 4-6 weeks. I told her nice try, but get to work. Two arms are overrated anyway.
