There was an Easter party at my house the Thursday before Easter. It provided an opportunity for the mothers to have tea and chat and the kids to hide eggs and play.
But there was unexpected drama in store for us.
A few weeks ago, the door to my Tuff Shed blew off in a wind storm. The door is metal framed and very heavy. I could barely just lift it into place over the opening until I could have the door rehung. (I won't go into the hassle I experienced attempting to get the Tuff Shed people even return my calls!)
During the Easter party my daughter -- who is five -- decided she would retrieve her kite from the shed so that she and her friends could fly it in the back yard. In the process she managed to pull this heavy door down squarely on top of her. Chaos ensued, and my thanks goes out to young Miles (who is four) for saving my daughter. He lifted that extremely heavy door off of my daughter just long enough for one of the other tots to pull her safely away. Miles is my daughter's hero. Being a fan of Batman he no doubt knows how to play the hero role.
It could have been bad, but my daughter's reflexes saved her more serious injury. She must have had her hand out in front of her to protect her from the falling door, her arm taking the brunt of the force. She broke her ulna and radius in the accident.
My daughter seems more-or-less unaffected having to wear a cast. She certainly doesn't complain about it, though during her first day of convalescence she did state that since she was hurt she should stay in bed all day and watch Lizzie McGuire on DVD. Had it been me with the broken arm I think I might have driven my wife mad with my griping and complaining. But my daughter wears her cast like a badge of honor.
No surprise, the one she chose is bright pink.