Act I
Portland has a rose festival. The Rose Festival fireworks show was where A and I first moved from casually knowing each other to the phase where I screaned her calls and she stalked me. Thats not entirely true. Regardless, part of the Rose Festival is a childrens 'junior' parade. I've never paid much attention to it, filing it under cheeky kid stuff. Turns out it's a big deal. Real big deal. Live TV, Beauty Queens, marching bands, the works.
One of G's friends happened to have her 4th birthday on the same day as the Junior Rose Festival Parade. The plan was for her to ride in a cupcake bike trailer/jogging stroller and for her beu, Gavin to be her escort in Thomas. As previously mentioned, I was clueless to the magnitude of the event or the fact that each of the parade entries were judged. G and I showed up, ate some PB&J with our friends then were told we won our division and awarded the Blue Ribbon while in line for the porta-potty so G wouldn't pee himself during the parade propper. What a great present to get a Blue Ribbon on your birthday. Not to mention that Brian's cupcake work was pure genious.
Act II
Busy as we've been with the details of buying/selling houses, it was a rare treat for us all to be home and have eaten dinner before the sun had set. Given the rare time we had, a family bike ride to G's favorite park and Thunderdome was the unanimous choice. Gavin was exstatic to show off for both A and I at the same time. We raced around the tarmac playground on our bikes before he lead the ride down the hill to Thunderdome, his grassy free-ride gully beneath Redwood trees.
Full of confidence and brimming with pride to show his mom Thunderdome for the first time, G raced spectacularly down the paved path on his skuut bike before launching Steve Austin style from speed wobbles and using his body to stop his inevitable impact into the chainlink fence that surrounds the public pool.
First was the shock. Then the pain. Walkers passed by and from behind his tears I could see his embarassment. Next was his anger as we walked slowly home, G on my shoulders cradling his arm and spot of road rash. Finally acceptance, "I really wanted to play at Thunderdome with you Mom."
The next morning he was still cradling his slightly swollen elbow. I squeezed and moved it, just as many doctors and medics have done to me many, many times before. A and I deliberated but weren't convinced it was that bad. We also weren't convinced it was okay. A doctors visit, X-Ray and lolly-pop later, G was the proud owner of a tiny fracture and a sling that he would wear for a grand total of 3 seconds. The next evening,we rode a lap around the block but he still lamented missing the chance to show his mom his moves in Thunderdome.
Act III
My Dad wanted to take G and I to an outdoor model train exhibit. Various backyards around town dedicated to trains. It's been planned for months. Given that G rested his arm for next to no time at all; this would be a great way to pass a day and keep him from trying to climb, wrestle, punch or othewise over-use his bad wing. G dozed as we drove from house to house and fought from leaving each one, fearful that the layout at the next house would suck.
I'll spare you the dozens of bad pictures of cool model trains and the back of one redhead kids' mellon. But the trainsets, landscaping and detailed features of each yard were all amazing.
Epilogue
The doctor said to try and use a sling if G will allow it but to otherwise let him use his arm but not to over-use it. I'm not sure how to express 'over-use' to a near-four-year-old, but I think if he can manage to swing a hammer while waiting for Mac & Cheese, he's gonna be alright. Did I mention that the new house is halfway down a steep hill?
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