Last week, my darling son was doing what 11 year old boys do...something reckless...when he fell and hurt himself. Fortunately, he didn't break his ankle or bones in his foot, but he has a pretty bad sprain. We've done what is necessary to help him heal, but I do know that my son is, well, an hypochondriac.
From toddlerhood, he has always overdramatized any of his hurts. I'd go to get him after school, and he'd be covered in bandaids. Any little scrape is a life or death situation. It's so hard to know when his pain is real or when he's embellishing. When he fractured his wrist last year, it took me weeks to convince him to begin using it again after the cast was removed and he was given the all-clear to resume activities. After he gets over a cold, it takes all the pushing and pulling possible to get him off the couch.
Because of the severity of the sprain, the doctor recommended crutches for a few days. I inwardly groaned. I knew our son would love his crutches and the attention they bring him. Today marks day five of the great sprain incident, and it's time for him to walk. At 7:25 this morning, we had our first argument over the crutches when I told him he could get his own breakfast. He started yelling, "I can't! I can't!" Then he went to the kitchen and made his own breakfast.
Knowing my son, I decided to bribe him, and I'm not proud about doing so. However, the promise of a movie he's been desperate to see has driven him to stretch, ice, and walk today. In fact, by the end of the day, he was walking without his crutches. He even decided to put both shoes on.
So Friday, I will sit in a darkened theatre, watching another kid's movie, but at least my son will be stronger and crutch-free. I don't like bribes, but they are sometimes a necessity in the life of a parent.
