Murphy's Law. Bring home newborn. Toddler breaks a leg. Perfect.
"How did she do that?" people ask me. And you know I feel the Cloud of Shame loom over my head when I answer "Well. . .I'm not really sure. My back was turned."
According to Abby she "couldn't hit bubbles" and "fell down." From this I surmise that Abby was hitting bubbles from the bubble machine using a big pool noodle. She probably slipped off our deck (which is three inches higher than the surrounding pavers) and landed in the exact way necessary to crack a bone.
I was holding Emma in one arm, and cleaning up paint paraphernalia from our previous activity with the other, when Abby called to me and then started crying. There was no loud crash or bump. She had no scrapes or bruises on her legs. But she was clearly in pain.
Abby's ankle swelled a little. We thought she had a bad sprain. So we didn't go to the doctor that evening. Cloud of Shame.
In the middle of the night, Abby tried to stand on her leg and fell down in tears. Cloud of Shame.
We went to the doctor first thing the next morning. She had a broken leg. Cloud of Shame. And needed a full-leg cast. Cloud of Shame.
The first few days with the cast were rough, but Abby has adjusted so much better than I would. She scoots around on the floor and talks about walking on two feet when the cast comes off, which is always "soon."
The cast hasn't gotten in the way of this toddler's busy schedule.
Abby can scoot to her baby doll in order to nurse her.
She does her artwork at the kitchen table and persuades unsuspecting twenty-somethings to make giant messes.
And she's still planning to teach a course about the joys and challenges toddlerhood.
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