Feliz Navidad

She won't like this, but I will.

Opening presents.

I think she's pretty.

Puzzles.

Watching Planet Earth and fucking around.

I was sitting in the swivel chair at Grandma's house finishing some peppermint tea after eating the Christmas dinner. I watched Gavin play around, making his fort on the sofa, then moving over to sit on the ottoman for the glider rocker and watch the DVD. He gets bored and starts falling off of the ottoman, which turns into jumping off it. He jumps, is parallel to the ground and extends his arm. I hear the brisk snap and watch his right arm crumple at an odd angle, then his body hits the floor. He realizes something is wrong at about the same time I do.

"HE BROKE HIS FUCKING ARM!" I scream, over Gavin's cries and in front of all of Felicia's family. I get up to run get a towel so we can make a simple splint.

"CALL 911!" Felicia yells.

I stop going for the towel and get my phone as Felicia and others try to console him make him immobile. "Keep him from fucking moving!" I walk out on the porch in my socks and make the call. The 911 people are worse than useless, so we decided to take him to the ER. Then it's speeding to the hospital with him in the back, Felicia cradling his disformed arm, trying to calm myself and him, telling him it will be okay.

Waiting to get this shit set.

He's a trooper.

I don't know who the fuck reads this shit, but if you've got kids, and they've been fucked up, then you know what it's like to hold your child while he screams and you try to console him and tell him that the doctor who just wrenched his arm back into the proper position is actually helping him. Their eyes well with tears and their little voices squeal as they undergo what feels like grievous, life altering injury. Felicia left before we did this. My mind keeps playing the whole thing on a fucking loop.

I'm proud of him. He certainly earned it.