Today I spent almost all of my time sitting still in a chair, because I have a cracked rib.
Cracked rib: great in a sandwich, terrible in your body!
It happened when Jeffrey burst into our bedroom at 6 a.m. last Saturday, began jumping on our bed, then slipped and landed with both of his knees on my chest.
The sad news is that this is the second cracked rib I’ve had in the last twelve months. The first one happened on the other side of my chest. Wimmy was sitting on my lap and squirming, then suddenly arched his back and whammed his head into my ribcage. It felt like a someone had thrown a bowling ball at me.
It hurts, a lot. Every time I breathe in, it feels like a strip of rusty thumbtacks is being pressed into my side. And if you shake your head and call that being overdramatic about the pain, I have a bowling ball I’d like to introduce you to.
My kids are out to get me, that’s all.