It's amazing to me, as I look at all the safety paraphernalia that my two girls have accumulated, how much we "protect" our children from everything. Somehow I survived childhood without the use of helmets, car seats or even seat belts. Riding in the back of daddy's pickup truck was a given, even on the highway. We use anti-bacterial soap, even though recent studies suggest it has a negative impact on "good" bacteria and almost no impact on "bad" bacteria. The Department of Social Services would take away my Daddy License if I allowed my kids to drink from a garden hose.
All that is to preface the fact that within the span of a few days, both my daughters sustained life-altering wounds while playing. Elizabeth, 9 years old, was riding her bike at a campsite on High Rock Lake. She is not the steadiest thing on two wheels, but seemed to be OK as I rode just ahead of her. As we started down a little hill that she had already travelled many times before, she all of a sudden lost control, of her mind, and splayed out on the asphalt, bruised and bewildered. It was nothing too serious, so I got her back on the bike and we rode back to our campsite to lick our wounds. The very next day, at 8 AM on Sunday morning, I was preparing breakfast, when a sleepy-eyed fellow came walking up to our campsite with Elizabeth in one arm and a crashed up bike in another. Her little basket was smashed and she had cuts and bruises on her nose and cheek, just below the left eye. As the report came in, I discovered that she had been on the same hill, and this time was fortunate enough to find a parked golf cart to run into, in lieu of that nasty pavement. We forgot to bring her helmet that weekend. After a little ice and some parental lovin', she was alright and even got back on the bike again, although never venturing near Killer Hill. Her new nickname is Elizabeth "Crash"kins, which she really likes.
The very next week, we decided to take a family walk down the street. We stopped at the corner, where a friend of mine owns a vacant rental house. In the front yard sat a pear tree pregnant with beautiful, bigger than my fist, pears. The girls immediately scurried up the tree and were happily playing as we talked to a friend who happened to be driving by. All of a sudden I heard a "I'm really hurt. Come now!!" kind of scream. It was Katherine, my 7 year old. She had fallen out of the tree and was holding her left arm, sobbing and screaming bloody murder. We got her back to the house and made a splint out of her soccer shin guards and an Ace bandage. After calling our friend who is an x-ray tech, we determined that waiting until the morning was the best option. The emergency room would just add to the misery, and they wouldn't be able to do anything until the swelling went down. It was probably broken, but not badly, so after stabilizing it, we medicated and got her in bed. After a very long and sleepless night, we got to the doctor's office, where they confirmed she had a small buckle fracture to the radius and would need a cast. Evidently some doctors don't even prescribe a cast for these types of fractures in children. Katherine's new nickname is "Cast"erine.
I guess we really can't protect our kids after all. After being scolded for "loose living and hard drinking", W.C. Fields, the early 1900s film star and comedian, reputedly remarked, "There'll be a lot of healthy people who get really mad when they die of nothing." While I am no hurry to see my daughters die, or even get hurt for that matter, I do tend to allow them to explore their limits. We have taught them some very basic things. They know about strangers. They know about playing in traffic. If the stick wiggles, it's not a stick. And if they forget to use anti-bacterial soap every now and then, we just let it ride. I think they'll be alright, and if they aren't, well there's always therapy.
When Dan isn't nursing some wound his daughters have sustained, he sells real estate with Fore Properties. You can reach him at 910-528-7003 or email: Dan@DanAskins.com.
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