in the life of a broken armed kid

So it has been almost 17 days since Eli broke his arm.  It took about 2 days for Eli to go from in-too-much-pain-to-move to forgetting he even has a cast.  The doctor told us this would happen.  In most ways, we are thrilled that he isn't letting his cast get him down. 

He can't ride his bike. 
He can't jump off of the coffee table, stairs.
He can't bounce on his bed.
He can't do the monkey bars. 
He can't use the bathroom without help. 
He can't even climb a ladder or wrestle with Daddy like he used to. 

These are things that may get a kid down, but not Eli.  Random people ask all of the time how he broke his arm.  His answer: "I fell off of a toy hippopotamus.".  He sees the humor in it all.

Speaking of humor, at Chick Fil A last week Eli had to use the bathroom so Chad assisted. And on their way back to the play area, two elderly ladies remarked to each other about Eli's broken arm and wondering how it happened. At that same moment, Eli tripped over his own feet and almost wiped out completely and at this one of the ladies said "Oh, now I see!" Eli's teacher has told me he has fallen on his cast numerous times...the kid is a wild man...a klutzy one, but a wild one. 

Soccer started with his first game this past Saturday.  Chad took the kids (I had a photo session) and Eli donned his purple (yes, purple...like he isn't mistaken for a girl enough!) soccer jersey and cheered his team on excitedly from the sidelines.  Thursday he gets his cast cut down and then he can play...but it needs to be wrapped up in something soft lest a unknowing opposite team member gets knocked out during the game.  As our friend Clint suggested, we are trying on oven mits.  If that doesn't work, we'll do bubble wrap.

But as we are going through all of this, it really puts things in perspective.  That is what it is all about: perspective.  It is an arm.  It could have been a leg...much worse than an arm.  But it was an arm.  Someone I didn't even know, but through Facebook got to read about and follow, had his daughter die of a brain tumor last week.  She was 4.  I couldn't help, but to put myself in that family's shoes.  But it was an arm.  And I am thankful it was just an arm. 

Putting things in perspective helps me to not mind so much when I have to lift Eli into the car and my back gives out.  Or when he climbs into bed with us in the wee hours of the morning and his cast knocks me in the face.  Or when I have to clean up the one handed soap mess after he washes his one good hand.  All of that means he is still here, the cast is temporary and it is only a season of life.  :)