The most traumatic experience of my childhood is also the silliest. I was about 8 years old when I walked out of the bathroom, donning only my superman underoos and a towel-cape pinned around my neck. My mission was to fly over the foot rail of my bed. In order to get momentum, I jumped up and down on my bed until the time was right.
On my next jump, I propelled myself forward in an effort to complete my flying mission. Unfortunately, my own foot sabotaged my flight. This self-thinking foot hooked itself under my rail, thus jerking my in-flight body to a complete halt and causing me to crash-land on the carpet below. I was completely unconscious with a left arm literally snapped in half like the broken bat of an out-of-the-stadium homerun. Needless to say, that was the first and last day of my flying career.
The old saying, “Like Father Like Son” is so true. It was 4 years ago, today, that my son Andrew Followed in my foot steps and lept off the bed breaking his arm. Unbelievable… If you are not faint of heart, then take a peek at the X-Ray below of Andrew’s arm:
Yummy, thank you for sharing.
Angel
July 7th, 2009
I’m not sure if “Yummy” is the word I would have used . . . More like Owee!
Jeff Stone
July 7th, 2009