Last weekend, I had one of those days.

It started with my attempt at mowing the lawn. I think I made it once up the length of the garden before I ran over the electric cable and cut straight through it. Great. Bang went my plans of quickly and efficiently cutting the grass and moving on to other things.. Literally. It tripped a fuse in the box which may have saved me from electrocution, but somehow caused a knock on effect which left the house without power and me tinkering around trying to fix it for a good couple of hours. It was about this time that Cosmo came back in. 

He had been out by himself for the first time (with a friend) to the woods nearby. It felt good. An initial spreading of wings. A step on the road to autonomous independence. Cool.. All good. And it is.

Except he fell out of a tree. 

Bless his fortitude, he walked all the way back to the house - the best part of a mile - and then sat on the sofa and cried. It took some time to persuade him that a trip to the hospital was a good idea. He was not impressed but we went. (By the way, y'know I said it was one of those days? Well, the car broke down on the way there. Uh-huh. For real). Several hours and an x-ray later it became clear he had broken his wrist. 

A few days later we went back to have a proper cast fitted. The consultant looked at his other wrist and.. 'Hmmm...' Another x-ray showed a little crack in that one too.

Blimey. (Click for full size view)


I myself have never broken a bone. Hell I don't even have a filling in my mouth, but somehow this feels like a rite of passage. For Cosmo obviously but also, curiously, me too. Can't explain it but there it is. Now the initial shock and pain have passed, it has also become a bit of a badge of honour.

And trying to get him to rest up, look after himself and maybe not take any risks for a few weeks? Yeah. 'Trying' is the operative word.

Boys will be boys.