It is the International Year of Cooperatives, Chinese Year of the Dragon, Australian Year of the Farmer but, in our house, 2012 is turning out to be the Year of the Broken Hand. The first was our 19 year old, in remote Central Australia, an accident while rock climbing. “Just bad luck,” he said. – “Just bad luck you were 5 hours by 4WD away from medical attention,” I said. Nine weeks later and there is a second lot of surgery to remove the wires and pins. “Good luck it wasn’t your head,” I said.
Not to be out done in this the Year of Broken Hands, our tween manned up against a large striker in a soccer match at a state carnival. A rough game for a non-contact sport. Half time there is a call of ‘Hey Mum’ across the ground. A sea of Mum’s heads turned in response. I was the Mum needed. “The team Manager thinks I have broken my hand.” he said. “You have got to be kidding me’” I said. An afternoon in emergency, break confirmed, another plaster. “Good luck it wasn’t your writing hand,” I said.
Yes competition is alive and well in this the Year of The Broken Hand. The tween has the more attractive plaster but the near adult the more complex break. We still have 9 months of the year left, plenty of time for our middle son to show us what he is capable off. “And it won’t be breaking my hand,” he said. Thank goodness for that!