Perhaps you will recall some of my previous posts about how my kids are a danger to themselves.
Yesterday, Brynn decided that the blood pressure of her parents wasn't high enough. As Sara was walking to the baby room at day care, she heard a crying that, without doubt, emanated from our younger offspring.
The child had foolishly walked over a pillow and fallen wrong, giving herself a green stick fracture in her left distal radius. The day care was, rightly, horrified.
Sara took her to the hospital to get an XRay, which I hear is not fun to try to take from a 1-year-old. They hooked her up with a brace and an ace bandage that will look great at derby practice.
Other than trying to pull off the bandage, she's in a great mood and slept well last night. We have an appointment on Tuesday to cast the tiny arm up and I'm going to put up a Kickstarter for a college fund with contribution rewards that will be things for her to hit with the cast. For a $200 contribution, Brynn will come to your house and awkwardly try to pet your animals. For a $1000 contribution, she will follow you down the street crying while you tell people how tough you are for beating up a toddler. For a $10,000 contribution, you can carry her around and tell hot chicks at the bar how you saved her from a car wreck.
The possibilities are endless.
Because I am an awful person and a pretty bad father, I find it vindicating that the first major injury is not a result of my roughhousing with the girls, as many people stated it would be, but rather from the excessive use of pillows.
Take that, Bed, Bath & Beyond!
