29 CommentsShare: |
Subscribe
;

Just so you know…in case you’re fourteen and considering your options…. The worst time to jump off the stairs and break your foot in the country is the winter. Two months of hiking up and down the driveway on snow and ice and mud on crutches is a hard lesson in using all the stairs, one at a time, instead of jumping over six of them to hit a concrete floor.
But the day of joy finally arrived! The nurse brought out her power cast saw to giddy thrills!

And queasy fears!

And steady contemplation.

This is not her first cast. And mayhap will not be her last.

I have two boys and neither one of them have ever broken so much as a pinkie.

My girl, she is something else.

She’s breaking everything, one bone at a time.

She’s quite stoic about it. Proud of her adventurous spirit and uncomplaining in her sometimes challenging, self-inflicted medical consequences. She doesn’t whine. You gotta love that about a girl hiking up and down a snowy driveway on crutches. She’s a wonderful, beautiful, outgoing, and intrepid thing. She’s everything I ever wished I was when I was her age but wasn’t.

She was completely fascinated with her newfound foot after the cast was removed.

Downright infatuated with it. It was examined from every conceivable angle.

This way.

That way.

Wait! She has to get on the phone and post a message on MySpace to tell the world she got her cast off.

Then back to examining the foot.

Taking pictures of the foot with her cell phone.

HUGGING THE DOCTOR when he says she can go to softball practice!

Going home. Wearing two shoes!

Until, you know, she breaks THE OTHER FOOT.

Miss Cotswold has food in her hair. She might think twice next time at the hay trough if she wants a date with the Mister! (Tis nearly shearing time! Can’t wait to get my hands on that wool this year now that I can knit.)
If you would like to help support the overhead costs of this website, you may donate. Thank you!
"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
Make friends, ask questions, have fun!
Be a part of something big.
Prints and Free Wallpaper!
by judydee on February 11, 2012
by Pete on February 11, 2012
by CATRAY44 on February 11, 2012
by MaryB on February 11, 2012
by odell on February 11, 2012
"Cookies are good." Read my barnyard stories....
Entire Contents © Copyright 2004-2012 ChickensintheRoad.com.
Text and photographs may not be published, broadcast, redistributed or aggregated without express permission. Thank you.