Rolling with the Punches

Rachel has some sort of death wish for her left arm. This time, she broke her finger. We didn't go the Dr. 'cause there is nothing they can do except tell me that "yeah, it's broke alright. Here is your $400 bill for xrays and my time." (I broke my finger playing basketball when I was her age and all they did was give me a splint) Frankly, just by looking at it, you can tell it's broke. It's huge and blue. So, we bought a splint, I wrote a note to her PE teacher who didn't want to believe that she was hurt yesterday playing basketball, and made her pack her finger in ice.

It doesn't look any better this morning, unless you consider the entire finger being blue, better... Poor baby.

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I had more to say, but seeing as how I just got into it with my boss, I sort of lost my train of thought. I think I won this particular battle, however. I guess we'll see.