oops, he did it again. seriously.

Thirteen days.

Thirteen!

That's how long (little! it's only been a little!) it's been since my youngest son FINALLY got his arm cast removed. Over a two month stretch, he wore three versions of that stinky monstrosity for a total of two months as both bones in his forearm healed. THAT'S a long time. Especially when you're 8 years old and you're supposed to start playing flag football for the first time ever in three days.

Well, guess what!!

WE GET TO DO IT ALL OVER AGAIN!!

Eight weeks and 13 days since breaking his left forearm, my son came home tonight from a friend's house in tears (which I could hear before he ever got near the house thanks to his tendency to cry loudly which may or may not be a trait he picked up from me), clutching the same arm, and I was all, "Seriously?! Seriously?! I just today mailed the first of what will be approximately 3,394 payments to the clinic and the ER for the first broken arm!"

It's like deja vu. And other words that start with the letter 'D.'

Like 'damn,' and 'dang,' and 'damn' again.

It's also for 'dog,' which is what caused this new break. My son had his back to his friend's very large dog, very rambunctious dog while they all played in the backyard, and the dog went charging after a toy. In the process, he slammed into my son's back, knocking him to the ground. My son landed hard on his elbows and then rolled. The impact caused the lower bone in the same arm, just barely healed, to snap again.

Did I mention 'delightful'? Oh, yes, it's that, too. We pay (literally)(and a lot) another visit to our orthopedic surgeon tomorrow for yet another stinky cast.

Thirteen days.

Thirteen!

By the way? He was supposed to start playing basketball in three days.