One Armed Bandit

A couple weeks ago I was walking our dog in the morning when I was attacked by ninjas in the woods near our house… no wait, that didn’t happen. I was walking our dog in the woods when Vladimir Putin invaded Cambridge and I had to fend off a squad of Russian paratroopers with my bare hands… no, that’s not right. I was walking our dog in the woods when I encountered a robotic sasquatch that I had to battle hand to hand Steve Austin style… no, that’s not it. Ok. I was walking our dog when I slipped on some ice and broke my wrist.

Slipping on ice is not exactly a glamorous story. The whole incident makes me feel both clumsy and old at the same time… like I should be doing Calcium pill commercials to avoid brittle bones in my golden years… At the time I thought I had just jammed my hand but as the pain grew I knew I had done something to it… a quick trip to the local ER confirmed my suspicions and has left me in a splint from the top of my knuckles to my elbow for the last two weeks. As you might imagine, parenting with one arm has become a bit of a challenge.

When I first returned from the ER, Little Miss was quite intrigued with the bandage on my arm. She built her own version with paper and scotch tape, and signed her initials on my wrist. Little Miss Junior has been a tad more difficult. LMJ has been in a bit of a clingy phase, demanding to be carried quite a bit. She’s not talking much yet, but more words are coming, and lately ‘up’ has been a constant demand, as she looks up at you and wonders why you’re not carrying her from the kitchen to the living room. She doesn’t understand why Daddy has the new bandage on his arm, and generally she tries to unwind it and remove the bandage clamps than heed my instructions of ‘gentle honey, please don’t do that’.

She’s also recently decided that diaper changes are a terrible inconvenience, and often wages her own personal takedown defense against the would-be cleanup crew. Changing the diaper of a squirming, kicking 16 month old with one arm immobilized has been an exercise in creative restraint whilst trying not to scatter the contents of her last few meals across myself and the floor. Good times. I await my visit to the orthopedist later this week, for the verdict on how my wrist is healing. With any luck I won’t fall and break a hip on the way over the Doctor’s office.

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