Mark came home, exhausted, looking for a nap. Loving wife (me) took the boys for a walk after dinner. All was well, until the journey home.
Me: Matthew, walk on the side of the road, please!
Matthew: This is gonna rock! (Hop onto road, hop off!) ....
Me: Matthew, come along. There are cars coming!
Matthew: This is gonna ROCK! (Hops into ditch, laughing hysterically!) ....
Me: Matthew, come NOW, please!
Grab Matthew's arm and tug him across the road, pushing stroller with the other hand. In that toddler way, Matthew suddenly goes limp, which makes me tighten my grip on his forearm and then he picks up his feet! AGH!
There was a weird crack and then he started shrieking...I dropped to the ground with him, scrambling to see what was wrong. His arm. Omigawd, I thought,I broke his effing arm!!!!!
We stumbled home, he balanced precariously on the handle of the stroller, one arm wrapped around my neck, crying. (See the irony?) Me, begging forgiveness and worrying that the ER doctors were SURE to take him away from me; what kind of mother breaks her kid's arm?
Headed straight for Mark, who made him lift his arm, give high-fives, etc. Long story short: Matthew's fine. He was hurt, for sure, but not seriously. No bones broken, we think. But man.....did he EVER put on a show.
This Mummy thing...today, it's hard. Haven't wanted a ciggie this much in a long, long, time.