“Ryan, it looks like the trampoline has been moved. Do you know anything about that?” I ask my then eight-year-old son. Of course, with deer-in-the-headlight eyes, he shakes his head from side to side. “RYAN???!” “Umm…well…umm…Josh and I moved it there yesterday.” “And???” I cautiously inquired. “And, we…umm…well, were jumping off of the shed onto the trampoline.” “You WHAT??!!!
As if whisked back in time, I heard my mother saying those infamous words: “You could have broken your neck!” However, my mother was nowhere around; that was me! It was actually me saying one of those phrases I had heard so many times before yet swore would never cross my lips. My mother incarnate! Oh well, it was bound to happen, right?
So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided right then and there that this youngster needed to learn a lesson. I will teach him! He will see what it would be like if he broke his neck and couldn’t walk or do anything for himself; he will be an invalid for the day! With a quick call to my good friend down the street, and mother to Ryan’s partner in crime, Josh, she decided her son also needed to participate in this “lesson”. Hence: patient and nursemaid.
It was late in the morning when our “lesson” began. Ryan looked oh so precious and quite innocent sitting in his makeshift wheelchair (my red retro computer chair), a crocheted afghan across his legs, and his dedicated nurse, Josh, standing by his side. However, soon we needed to leave to head to our friends' house, so Josh carried Ryan out to the van, safely placed him in the seat, and buckled him up. He then had to somehow fit the non collapsible chair into the back of the van, all while leaving room for the rest of the crew. Upon arrival at our friends, Ryan was safely carried into their house and situated on a dining room chair until his ‘wheelchair’ was retrieved from the van. Josh then placed Ryan into the wheelchair and made sure to cover him with his afghan. Shortly thereafter, it was time for lunch. Nurse Josh fed Ryan his every bite, even wiping his chin when the soup dribbled down.
Lunch was followed up by Nurse Josh reading a story (*sigh*) to Ryan. Eventually our little ‘invalid’ was wheeled to the living room window so he could look out and enjoy the sunshine and scenery. Oh, did I mention that most of the neighborhood kids were frolicking in the front yard? Bummer!
Oh-oh, now Ryan has to go to the bathroom! With much trepidation, Josh carries Ryan upstairs to the bathroom…(okay I didn’t get completely carried away with my little “lesson”). Ryan handled the rest on his own! A few minutes later, back down the two came with Ryan stretched across Josh’s arms and back into the ‘wheelchair’. Another hour or two of bonding between the patient and nurse and the “lesson” was complete. What a long, boring day for two boys!
Was the ‘lesson’ really learned? Probably not!
As if whisked back in time, I heard my mother saying those infamous words: “You could have broken your neck!” However, my mother was nowhere around; that was me! It was actually me saying one of those phrases I had heard so many times before yet swore would never cross my lips. My mother incarnate! Oh well, it was bound to happen, right?
So, in my infinite wisdom, I decided right then and there that this youngster needed to learn a lesson. I will teach him! He will see what it would be like if he broke his neck and couldn’t walk or do anything for himself; he will be an invalid for the day! With a quick call to my good friend down the street, and mother to Ryan’s partner in crime, Josh, she decided her son also needed to participate in this “lesson”. Hence: patient and nursemaid.
It was late in the morning when our “lesson” began. Ryan looked oh so precious and quite innocent sitting in his makeshift wheelchair (my red retro computer chair), a crocheted afghan across his legs, and his dedicated nurse, Josh, standing by his side. However, soon we needed to leave to head to our friends' house, so Josh carried Ryan out to the van, safely placed him in the seat, and buckled him up. He then had to somehow fit the non collapsible chair into the back of the van, all while leaving room for the rest of the crew. Upon arrival at our friends, Ryan was safely carried into their house and situated on a dining room chair until his ‘wheelchair’ was retrieved from the van. Josh then placed Ryan into the wheelchair and made sure to cover him with his afghan. Shortly thereafter, it was time for lunch. Nurse Josh fed Ryan his every bite, even wiping his chin when the soup dribbled down.
Lunch was followed up by Nurse Josh reading a story (*sigh*) to Ryan. Eventually our little ‘invalid’ was wheeled to the living room window so he could look out and enjoy the sunshine and scenery. Oh, did I mention that most of the neighborhood kids were frolicking in the front yard? Bummer!
Oh-oh, now Ryan has to go to the bathroom! With much trepidation, Josh carries Ryan upstairs to the bathroom…(okay I didn’t get completely carried away with my little “lesson”). Ryan handled the rest on his own! A few minutes later, back down the two came with Ryan stretched across Josh’s arms and back into the ‘wheelchair’. Another hour or two of bonding between the patient and nurse and the “lesson” was complete. What a long, boring day for two boys!
Was the ‘lesson’ really learned? Probably not!
I couldn't help but laugh out loud remembering this! They might not have totally learned their lesson, but I don't think they made the same exact mistake again. At least not yet.
ReplyDeleteAnd this is hysterical!
ReplyDelete