I am watching him throw an indoor basketball against the glass back door, with a quizzical look on my face. On the drive home he was boo hooing about how badly his hand was injured when he tripped at school and rammed his knuckles into a pole. I told him they were not broken or dislocated, and he had the audacity to accuse me of not taking him seriously. I reminded him of my 20 years as a Paramedic.
This kid no matter what the injury is it is a mortal wound (my daughter is worse), he is dying, and he thinks no matter what it is broken and needs an ace bandage. What is an ace bandage supposed to do? Yesterday at the grocery store someone accidently ran over his boot cast with a shopping basket, and you would have thought the world was ending they way he was carrying on. I received a call from the school nurse today because he was still complaining about how much pain he was in from it. Then when the sun goes down, and he thinks no one is paying attention he plays indoor basketball, I got news kiddo you do not get up early enough to pull the wool over my eyes.
I wish, I wish, I wish my son was more like me in that nothing phases me, I keep on going status quo no matter how bad it hurts.