Skateboard camp was 2 hours a day for 5 days. The Oldest attended with his friend, and when I picked them up Monday they’d had a blast and told me they wished it was longer than 2 hours.
Tuesday, however, was a different story.
I dropped them off at 10 a.m. and came home to resume working on getting client galleries uploaded. I’ve been having some technical difficulties lately, so it seems everything is taking me twice as long as it did before wedding season started. I was battling it out with Lightroom when the phone rang at 11 a.m.. It was one of the instructor’s informing me they thought The Oldest had broken his arm.
Lightroom would have to wait. I grabbed some ice, ibuprofin and The Youngest, and drove over to pick up the boys.
Hot Husband can attest to the fact that I don’t deal well when stuff goes horribly wrong with the body…hence the reason I’m a Photographer and not a Nurse or Doctor. So when I asked to see the injury, I immediately wished I hadn’t. It didn’t take a medical degree to know his wrist was broken after a mere 3 hours of skateboard camp. Off to Convenient Care we went.
Sure enough, x-rays confirmed he’d broken both bones in his wrist. The staff at Cortland Convenient Care sent us over to Ithaca to see the Orthopedist right away to have it set. To say The Oldest and I weren’t prepared for that experience is a gross understatement. I have lived through both of Hot Husband’s knee surgeries because I was occupied in the waiting room. Being present during the setting broken bones, however, is not my cup of tea. I pray my boys manage to keep the rest of their bones intact until they’re adults.
Since Hot Husband was teaching summer school and doesn’t receive any paid time off during the session, I chose to handle the days events on my own. However, when it was all said and done, I felt The Oldest and I had earned a trip to the mall for some retail therapy. He was anxious to spend his Birthday money at Zumiez, and I figured I’d earned a charm for my Pandora bracelet. After a quick stop at Target we were off to do our shopping while Hot Husband borrowed the keys to the Charger to put our purchases in the trunk.
I was knee-deep in Pandora charms when my phone rang.
Me: “Hello?”
HH: “I know this is a stupid question, but do you have a spare key to the Charger?”
Me: “I know you didn’t just lock my keys in the car…”
Since this is a PG-13 rated blog at most, I’ll spare you the rest of the conversation. Having not been present for the day’s festivities, Hot Husband didn’t realize my stress level had already reached “code red.” His keys were back at home because The Youngest’s Godfather drove his vehicle home after he met me in Ithaca. So, armed with a metal thing that looked like a slim jim and a wire hanger, given to me by the nice women at Perrywinkles, I set out to break into my car. (Barring that, I figured I could find another use for the hanger…)
This is the part where I thank Guy With The Slim Jim, because neither one of my tools were working. Thank you!!
(Oh, and by the way, even if you’re able to get a Charger unlocked with a slim jim, you can’t use the trunk release inside the car to get the keys that are inside it.)
