The cast is off! The cast is off!
Everything in my vicinity smells like rancid-stanky-foot-cheese, but at least that sweet little leg is now open to air and cleaning and soap.
And the boy is already running. It was fun, being locked in the basement with him during tonight's tornado watch/warning/pitch-black-apocalypse, trying to get him to settle down instead of caroming around like half-broke colt.
In his words, here's what went down today.
"Went to Red Lobster with Nina. Ate biscuit. Went to see doctor. Doctor took off my boot. With saw. Loud saw. NO! NO, LOUD SAW! Look! There's my foot! My boot is in baggie. I walk now."
And then he limps away. He's pretty fast, too.
I never thought I'd be so happy to see my son run away from me without a diaper on, laughing and shouting, "No!"
Here's a hint, kids: Casts stink.
Seriously. They're horrible, and they just flat out smell.
So don't break anything. Ever. At least not until you're old enough that it's cool for everyone to sign your cast with a Sharpie.
Then it's okay.
But only for the attention.