So this week has been, well, eventful. It seems that the cliche is true---it never rains but it pours. The weeks are speeding by in a rush of driving, cleaning up after babies, making meals, cleaning up after babies, driving, cleaning up after babies, football, Sarah's after school activities, cleaning up after babies, etc.
And of course, a visit to the doctor today to find out that Andrew broke his arm 'significantly' falling off the piano bench. He's two, and when asked if his arm hurt, would say "No," but then refused to use it. So we were home all of an hour, and I had left him to watch a movie while I was doing the laundry downstairs, only to hear Sarah yell "Andrew, NO!" He'd succeeded in halfway unwrapping the splint in the 5 minutes I was gone from the room.
Of course the funniest/saddest part was in the office. The kind doctor was showing us the x-ray, pointing out the break in one bone and the 45 degree angle in the other, and Andrew started crying, "Scary! Scary!" and buried his face in Kendall's arm.
So Monday will be normal chaos, plus Sarah's orthodontist appointment and a visit to the orthopedic surgeon to have a cast put on. The doctor said usually these casts are on two to three weeks, but in this case, it will probably be more like 4 to 6. So we can add sponge baths through Halloween to the schedule.
Here's my question to the universe--why has every child (except Sarah) broken their left arm when they were 2 1/2 years old?
