Well, the idea of having a broken hand was cool for my son…
For like two days.
Now, not so much. He’s really starting to feel the pain, and the doc has him on vicodin. Last night it was getting unbearably uncomfortable, and he tried to adjust the splint a little, and wound up making it more uncomfortable. He’s stuck with the splint for three weeks, and then has to spend three more weeks with his pinky taped to his ring finger.
Yesterday, he realized that he can’t play football at lunch, and that he can’t try out for the wrestling team just after Christmas break. He’s really bummed about that.
I keep asking him, “Well, did you learn anything, J.P.?”
At first, his mantra was, “Yeah, miss the studs.”
Now it’s, “yeah, don’t punch the wall.”
He can be taught!