Tuesday, January 12, 2016

The Newmentia Lunch Time Think Tank Strolls Down The Boulevard Of Broken Bones


Discussion at the Semi Weekly Meeting of the Newmentia Lunch Time Think Tank turned to maimed children last week. Maimed children of the faculty. It all started when a kid walked by and somebody said she was getting around quite well, what with having a vestigial organ removed over the Christmas break.

“Yeah. She had been complaining for a week that her stomach was hurting. Then she had to have emergency surgery. Her dad had told her to suck it up.”

“Well, you just never know with kids. My sister thought her toddler was just wanting to climb in bed with them every night. The kid came in saying her arm hurt. ‘Oh, you’ll be fine in the morning. Let’s go back to your crib.’ Come to find out the next day, she had fallen while climbing out of her crib, and broke her collar bone.” Jewels was first to jump into the discussion.

“When my son was little, I put him down for a nap when he had a broken arm. I thought he was just being cranky.” Very Special still had three other sons. So I guess one was expendable.

“We did the same thing. My son broke his wrist, and my husband said, ‘If it’s broken, it will still be broken tomorrow. Let’s wait and see how it feels in a day or two.’” Poster Boarder is unflappable.

“I think I told you about my boy. He said he thought his arm was broke. He was just in elementary. We had tickets to the Cardinals game that night. I said, ‘We can go to the ER, or we can go to the game. There’s not time to do both.' Usually, you can hand a kid a bat, and tell him to hold it with his arm straight out. If it’s broke, they can’t do it. My boy couldn’t do it. But he said, ‘Let’s go to the game.’ The next day, I took him to the ER, and it was broke.’” Sports Fan let the kid decide.

“Wow. Now I don’t feel so bad about the first time The Pony broke his elbow, running down the hall here after school. I was going to the dentist, and I had already rescheduled the appointment twice. The Pony was crying that it hurt, so I told him we’d see how it felt after my appointment. That appointment was 40 minutes away. My Mom drove us up there. She gave The Pony a can of Diet Coke out of her cooler to hold on his arm, while it was laying on the armrest. Genius had a fit because he wanted to DRINK the Diet Coke. We called Farmer H to meet us after the appointment, and he took The Pony to the ER. Where X-rays showed that he had broken the end off his ulna, and the fragment was laying alongside the rest of the ulna, with a gap where that piece should have been. So I’m a model mom, really, for getting her offspring to the ER within four or five hours of his maiming.”

I think that deserves a plaque. I can add my other titles as well. Model Mom. Master Teacher. Almost a Mother Teresa.

2 comments:

Sioux said...

No wonder Genius is the way he is today. He's scarred. Probably permanently. And if Genius does NOT submit his therapist's bill to you, consider him for a son-of-the-year award.

How long did that little cherub have to gaze--longingly--at that Diet Coke without getting even a drop? Did that innocent ever get to drink it? Or should I presume he was denied a Diet Coke for seemingly forever, until he could go away to college and get one for HIMSELF?

For shame, for shame, for shame.

Hillbilly Mom said...

Sioux,
GENIUS? Oh. You mean the #1 son. I guess Genius is as good a name as any to call him. He only wants what he can't have. If I had put liver-and-onions on The Pony's arm, he would have cried to have liver-and-onions.