Oh dear, my poor little girl.
Her spectacular accident on the last day of our holiday has cast a long shadow. The angular tricksiness of the break and the hospital’s reluctance to get heavy with the leg has resulted in a long layoff: weeks of tentative and slow recovery, in the hope that The Leg sees reason and knits together tidily. I’ve had to compile a dossier of evidence to satisfy her school that she’s not still skiing down a mountain somewhere. And the fact that my posts here have been brief since that time is a clue that yours truly has been carer #1 up to now.
The first couple of weeks were spent confined almost completely to the sofa. Movement was minimal and uncomfortable. The last week has seen a marked uptick in my daughter’s customary artsiness. Bored with her enforced confinement she’s started hopping around the house, easing herself up the stairs one at a time to see her bedroom (she and I are based on the ground floor to keep most movement on the level) and play her guitar – or, more precisely, plug her guitar into the girls’ mini Marshall stack and let rip.
The downside, from my daughter’s perspective, is that her increased mobility means there’s little excuse not to tackle a bit of schoolwork.
So, here she is, deep in thought over comprehension homework about Mesolithic man. The Leg is propped up, a little awkwardly, on the adjacent chair.
#quiettime #homework #brokenleg #poorthing
View on Instagram https://ift.tt/2HBZ4zd