Recipe for a broken wrist

Start with a four-year old boy,
add unlimited energy,
mix in the inability to sit still while doing anything,
toss in some reckless abandon,
and stir thoroughly in a rolling, swiveling desk chair.

I didn't see it happen, but the screaming fell into the "I'm actually hurt" category. He said, "I jumped off the arm of the chair." I don't know how he managed to stand on the arm of the desk chair in the first place, but that's Classic Mason for you. After an hour passed, and he was still complaining of pain and still babying his wrist, I called the doctor. He got a splint that evening, an x-ray the next morning, and had to wait until Monday to get a cast.

While we waited for the doctor, I asked him what color cast he wanted. He said, "purple." I told him, "No, Daddy said no pink or purple." He replied, "Maybe violet?"

I convinced him that blue was the next best thing.

He gets a lot of sympathy for the cast, and when people asked him what happened, he sighs, looks down, and melodramatically says, "I jumped off a chair." I tell them to not be fooled by his act. The cast has in no way slowed this kid down.

His wrist may be broken.

But his ability to jump off furniture is still intact.