This is my daughter a month ago. It’s been seven weeks of hard work in this house. Broken legs mean children who can’t walk, which means constant bending and lifting and carrying. Not much fun when you’re already lugging a big old baby bump around.
The cast came off twelve days ago and, up until last week, my four year old refused, point-blank, to put any weight on her leg. “I don’t want to ever walk again Mummy,” she said proudly, as I urged her to get up and walk. “You’ll have to carry me forever and ever. Walking is stupid.” Continue reading »