From The Storyteller

June 26, 2017, One Handed

It may be genetic. Having an arm in a cast seems to be a family trait. My dad demonstrated the practice by breaking his arm in the blindfold backwards walking race at a Cub Scout picnic.  Following in the family tradition my cast came out of a Cub Scout softball game.  Line drive to the third, dead run to first, step on the first baseman’s foot and fall over – I get my cast..

Leaving the Cub Scout era behind, my eight year old daughter earned her cast on a jungle adventure. Two of her older brothers were teaching her the art of Tarzan “tree to hanging rope” jumping. As you can imagine, she misses the rope and “wa-la” she earns her cast.
   
“Livie” my six year old granddaughter, went about earning her cast in a more modern up to date environment. She fell off the slide at McDonalds. This past week I was with her and we were doing typical Grampa – granddaughter thing (sharing an ice cream cone). With her arm still in the cast, it was pretty much a one handed deal for her. I did what I could to help but she was working out the details without much help from the old guy.

With her cast to be removed on the next Monday we talked and laughed and talked some more. Then with a very serious look and tone of voice she proclaimed – “I getting pretty good at being one handed”. At that moment it dawned on me – all the time we had spent together and never a complaint or a poor me.

My six year old granddaughter was demonstrating something many adults never grasp. When life puts speed bumps in you path – adapt, modify, and overcome.

Moral – Listen to children and you might learn something.