Stuntman

Apparently someone forgot to tell Spike he has two broken bones in his arm. There's no stopping this kid. Our little southpaw has overcome his lack of left-handedness with ease and is perfectly content to eat, color, build and drive tiny vehicles with his right hand. He's also learned to use his big blue cast as a pivot point to help him up onto the furniture, and as a sort of bulldozer to sling toys out of the way when he's playing on the floor.

We have a fuzzy sock I've altered to fit over his fingers that he wears during meal times to keep the cast clean (and to prevent him from shoving food down inside of it). He calls it his "cast blankie" (which I happen to think is adorable to hear him say) and refuses to eat without it. At night time, the poor guy is forced to sleep with one of his sister's thick pink legwarmers over his arm to keep him from scratching himself during his sleep with the cast and to thwart the appearance of big blue dents on the inside of the crib or the wall next to his bed.

Caleb's gotten so used to his amended appendage that he often forgets the cast is even there. This is dangerous when he (a) runs toward you full speed for a snuggle pounce/bear hug or (b) angrily flaps his arms when his sister takes something from him. Being struck with the casted arm of a 21-month-old is a little like being hit in the face with a brick.

In honor of his first skydiving experience, and at his Papa's urging, I purchased this "I do my own stunts" shirt for him featuring a picture of Stickman flying off of a motorcycle. He loves it, and regularly asks for his "bike shirt, peas [please], Mommy" when we get dressed in the morning.

I bought it a little too big. The way things are going, I figure we might need it again before he grows out of 3T.