"Yeah, it's Broken"

"If it isn't 'baroque', don't fix it!" -Cogsworth (Beauty and the Beast)

Well, m'dears, the 20-year streak of "no broken bones" has come to a tragic end.

The epic story:

I was strolling with Raine in the park and came across the swing-set we routinely see.

Rather than continue walking {as I normally do}, I skipped over to it.

Once seated, I kicked my legs, swinging up higher and higher, before closing my eyes and leaning back to enjoy the rush of wind through my hair... when the seat collapsed beneath me.

My hands instinctively held tighter to the chains as I smacked the sand.

My eyes blinked open and my hands uncurled from the chains.

I was stunned; it happened so quickly.

Later, mom asked me what I did after I hit the ground.

"Well, no more cookies for me."

"What?" she asked, puzzled.

"The first thing I did was say, 'no more cookies for me'. The seat snapped," I replied.

{For the record, the seat didn't break; it unhooked. Dad was able to fix it in a matter of seconds.}

At first, all of my fingers {excluding my thumbs} wouldn't straighten. They throbbed.

I tried to rub some of them and noticed something sticky smearing on my skin.

I turned my hand over, seeing blood drip from a gash in one of my right fingers.

But only one finger was really broken. {Psst, it's the lumpy, bandaged one in the picture.}

Mom was cracking up at the doctor's office that I kept "flipping off" my P.A.

She's so silly. :)