Tikkabik

A month ago -- Friday the 13th, as I'm quick to tell folks -- my four year old son James busted his right arm. Badly. Running down a trail in the woods at camp, he tripped over an exposed tree stump or root of some kind and went ass over teakettle, smashing his arm into the ground and breaking both bones in his forearm. He grew a second elbow for a little while where one didn't belong, about halfway between his elbow and wrist, until a cast was set -- it ran from his shoulder straight down to his thumb.

Kids as young as James mend their bones very fast, apparently -- "a week a year" is the rule of thumb the orthopedic doctor who's been treating James has said. So later on this afternoon, a month and a day after the arm was broken, the cast comes off.

James' cast has required us to make a few accommodations for him. He can't dress himself as easily, though he still can pull on a pair of socks himself. And bathing him has required us to wrap his arm in plastic cling-wrap and hose him down with the removable showerhead I installed in the tub upstairs. James is a really active kid. He's always running around, he loves to play outside, and he loves to jump and climb. The cast has made us worried a few times, just because we don't want him to reinjure his arm. But for the most part he's worked around his temporary disability pretty effectively.

So what's James looking forward to the most? Going in the sandbox in the playset in the backyard? Going down the slide? Getting his own clothes on?

Nope.

Taking a bath.

Turns out the thing James has missed the most is playing with his toys in the bathtub. He's mentioned it at least three times this morning and twice before he went to bed last night.