The Story of How Rai Broke His Leg

Saturday, April 17. 11:20 a.m.
It was a beautiful, sunny morning. You sat happily in the grass, observing the activity in front of you. Kids ran around, parents smiled. Laughter and the sound of children playing in the filled our ears. The brand new playground at Lincoln Park had just opened this week and, on this warm Saturday morning, the place was filled to capacity with happy kids. For our family, it was a typical weekend at the park and we could already see that this new playground will be one that you will grow up at.
You love to watch toddlers and older kids play but, now that you can walk, watching is not enough. Soon, you were approaching the 'big kids', making new friends, and scaring away others with that jovial, arms flailing approach of yours. Once you had befriended some of the kids, you wanted to do some 'big kid' things yourself. Whenever you tag along, so do we, following closely showing you all the parts of the play structure you'll someday be able to explore on your own.
It wasn't long before you and Mom were on the toddler slide, going for a test ride on this starter slide, dreaming of one day hitting that giant slide you could see over on the 'bigger kid' structure up the hill. But this was one day at the park that wouldn't have a happy ending.
I heard you shout in surprise. You sat with Mom at the bottom of the slide but instead of a smile on your face, there was a look of pain. Mom and I tried to comfort you without success; you continued to whimper and cry in pain. This was not like you -- you are not one to cry. We knew something was wrong. We tried to stand you up. No matter what mood you're in, that always cheers you up. You are so proud of your new skill: walking. Now, as we held you up, you bent your legs up, refusing to stand on them. Yes, something was definitely wrong.
Not long after, we were in the Emergency Room and soon after, you were getting x-rays done. The result of your pain was discovered: a fractured tibia. On your way down the slide, your super-grip shoe had caught the slide and your leg had twisted back. Seeing the result of this twist of the leg on the x-ray print out, your Mom and I both felt tears well up in our eyes, realizing just how much pain you had gone through. Our baby had broken his leg. Our hearts broke, the feeling is really indescribable.
A few hours later, you left the hospital with a splint on your left leg. Tomorrow, you'll return to get a full-leg cast which you'll have to wear for a month. At home, yesterday evening, you cried in pain often, throughout the night. You couldn't understand why your leg was stiff, why you couldn't bend your knee, why it hurt when you tried to roll over, sit up and stand in your crib as you love to do. It was a long night of consoling you and keeping you off of that splinted leg.
Each time I awoke to your cries of pain and held you in my arms, the image I had going through my head, like the video I had just recorded the other day, was of you running towards me, down the hall of our home, so happy, your eyes shining, laughing and smiling. You half-walked, half-ran towards me, so excited to be on your feet. Even though you've been walking for about 2 months now, you continue to express the same joy each time that you did the very first time you walked. Even as I write this now, my eyes are filled with tears knowing that you won't be able to feel this joy for the next month. To see you lose this month of joy breaks my heart.
Today, we went back to the scene of the crime. The culprit, that slide, beckoned other kids and we saw many of them catch their foot and twist their legs as you had. Rubber slide and rubber soles don't mix. I think we'll post a note to warn others. You observed other kids as they ran around and played and we could see the sadness in your eyes. You even forgave the slide and sat on it. By this time, you had come to terms with the fact that you are unable to walk right now. Rai, we'll make up for it plenty as soon as that cast comes off. I promise. In the meantime, you'll be spending a lot more time in our arms, and we'll be reading a lot more books. And now, the sun is setting and I hope tonight is not like last night. Sleep well, sweetheart.