Friday, December 15, 2006

My Son Breaks His Hand

And learns a valuable lesson. Don't punch the wall.

Yep. All pissed at me for grounding him for not doing his homework (again), he took a couple good shots at his bedroom wall. Shoulda missed the studs, son.

I love him. Sometimes I just get frustrated with him, he gets frustrated with me, a lot of shouting goes on, he's 12 and full of new manly hormones (he's even got a mustache going! Shit, I was like 19 before I could grow one!).

We're both doing the best we can to deal with the raging insanity that is the onset of pubescence, but it can be tough.

So we spent a couple hours at the E.R. last night. They put one of those splints on it that's some sort of fiber. When it's dry, it's like the inside of a pillow. Then they wet it, wrap it on his arm, and when it dries it's hard as concrete.

Now I'm waiting for the orthopedic doctor to call back, so we can squeeze him in for a cast.


We had a good time during our two hours at the E.R., though. 'cept we didn't get out of there until almost 1 AM. Lots of silly father/son humor. I think we both feel a lot better, but I wish it didn't take a boxer's fracture of his fifth metacarpal to accomplish that.

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