He nods solemnly. I am kneeling beside him on the alphabet rug, as we do “hugs and kisses,” our parting ritual every morning at school.
I’ll leave out the part about the fall off aforesaid playground structure onto his left elbow late last week at school, and the three hours we spent in urgent care, and the second visit where they fitted a splint and a sling to immobilize it all because we won’t be able to take a second set of x-rays until later this week to determine whether it is sprained, chipped or fractured. For the rest of the week, he is one-armed.
“But I can still do the monkey bars?”
No. You cannot do the monkey bars.