Thursday, November 10, 2005


Son, some will know, broke his arm and is in plaster.

Others will know that he has Aspergers and is ten years old.

Why, when I know all these things, does it surprise me that he would wait until his father is away from home, to drop a penny down inside the plaster cast like its some sort of flaming slot machine? That he would veer between thinking its funny and thinking its dangerous, claiming he has no memory of doing it and then insisting its a penny, and making it set off his junior metal detector like its a party trick?

He has asked me for my eyebrow tweezers or a screwdriver - he feels he could extract the offending metal if he just had something to prod down the gap.

I am running out of padlocks and high places - God help me.

At least he has a hospital appointment coming up on Monday. A penny against sweaty, enclosed skin can't stain him green or give him blood poisoning between now and then;

can it?


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