It's a sight to see, watching Grace zoom around in her clunky cast. She even figured out how to put her toys of choice on a higher surface and then stand to play, heavy leg dangling. Stairs no longer prove to be an obstacle either, as she paid a visit yesterday to my parents upstairs. She's getting around, that's for sure.
But the poor thing had a brutal reality check yesterday, when she informed me of her own prognosis.
"Mommy, I have a cast," she said.
Yes, sweetie, I know and it's beautiful.
"Yeah, and Mommy, the doctor is going to take off my cast ... and then I can RUN!" She raised her arms in the air as she said this, her face beaming and jubilant.
Oh you poor little sweet thing ... yes, he's going to take it off tomorrow, only to turn around and put another one on. No running yet, my dear little one ...
You should have seen her face at this reality check. She was utterly crushed. She just looked at me for a moment after I delivered the unwelcomed news, her huge brown eyes suddenly filling with tears. Then came the cry ... "Mommy, I just want this OFF!"
I wanted to cry right along with her.
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