It's finally happened - Sam's worst nightmare. He's broken his ankle playing football. Not because he was bravely attempting a sliding tackle or aggressively fending off an opponent while tearing down the wing. No. Sam broke his ankle while stepping on a stationary ball. He has offered up a complicated explanation of how this occurred after a heroic save in the back garden of a friend's house. I have my doubts.
In spite of being in a fair amount of discomfort, he then went to a swimming party, where he was able to climb up and down an inflatable octopus for a good 30 minutes before he realised that the pain was not going away..... This was followed by a trip to A&E where the tiny chip in his ankle bone was magnified for full effect. Fortunately, he wasn't put in plaster as we are going to Paris on Thursday and the doctor felt that an elastic stocking and crutches would suffice. These he found an exciting challenge until the novelty wore off after a couple of hours. I have now had three days of full on whingeing, not helped by Amazon's failure to deliver Fifa 11 which was hastily ordered as a potential distraction, but has merely served as another source of frustration (his and mine - he has just asked me yet again if I did actually order it).
No doubt my next post will be telling you all about Paris and how we got on (and off the Batobus every ten minutes...)
All I can hope for is that it doesn't make him even less reticent on the football field than he already is (see post 'Parental Guilt part 1' below). You never know, it could make him fearless now the worst has happened and he didn't actually die - who knows?