Actually, I probably shouldn't ask that, because each time I do, I get an answer I don't like.
Last night B was on a ladder in the garage, pulling something off a top shelf, when he lost his balance and took a bad step off the ladder and landed HARD on his left heel.
Can you tell them I was in a biker bar doing the Pee-wee dance after my tenth shot of tequila and got into a fight with a bunch of busty biker chicks?
No, I can't.
Can you at least tell them Campbell's tricycle was in my way?
OK, part of the reason he stepped badly was that he was trying to avoid Campbell's tricycle, which was next to the ladder.
He spent all night on the sofa in pain before hopping into our room at 5:00 as I was getting up to run. When I got home, he was back on the sofa because his foot hurt too much to sleep.
After I got the girls to school, Campbell and I took B to the ER to have his foot looked at. The verdict? He broke his heel, literally. He's in a walking boot and on crutches for the time being. He's got a referral to see a specialist next week to find out if he'll need surgery.
B has taken as many pain pills as he's allowed for the time being and is still in horrible pain.
Tell them it's 8 out of 10.
He's sitting here on the sofa next to me, with his foot wrapped in an ice pack, watching old Popeye cartoons on Boomerang with Lily.
The only good part of the day, at least as far as he's concerned, is his new iPod. His dad gave it to B for for his birthday, and I synced it with my iTunes set-up for him. B has been watching episodes of 30 Rock all morning. He now understands why I LOVE my iPod so much. On the way home from the ER he begged me to stop at the Apple store (not that it's anywhere near our house) so he could buy gadgets for his iPod. I ignored him and drove straight home.
So send healing thoughts B's direction.