October 3rd, 2007

A Pocket Full of Murder

Mishaps and Misery (a.k.a. the lost Blackadder III episode)

I have just spent the last 48 hours in hospital in another city with my five-year-old son, who broke his upper arm and wrist while bouncing on the bed with his father and brothers.* He's home now with pins and a cast, resting fairly comfortably if still hopped up on codeine, and I'm just hoping that the swelling in his hand and fingers goes down by morning.

Anyway, I am exhausted, but thankful to be home again.

* No, he didn't fall off the bed -- that would have been far too ordinary. Instead, he whacked himself in the arm with his own knee. (I hear Douglas Adams once broke his own nose in a similar fashion.)