Courtney Scrabeck

My little Hartwell twisted his ankle this weekend. We went to his school's Apple Blossom Festival featuring pony rides! and a bounce house! While being helped off the pony, the lady misunderestimated his weight and kind of dropped him on his ankle. He didn't cry, but was a limp-ie crank. He wanted to go into the bounce house but once inside sat and cried about how no one should be bouncing.

When we got home we decided to take him to the urgent care to make sure it wasn't broken. And get it wrapped and stuff. Plus, I was sick of carrying the big lug. He weighs 60 pounds!

Because of his size, the doctors and nurses kept saying things like, "Bring him some books to read or homework," and "what grade are you in, buddy?" Whenever I said, "He's only 4, " I was met with, "I know." You know? Really?

He's feeling a lot better. Until someone stops by to see if he's okay. Then he starts to milk the attention like crazy. And Bee joins right in.