Ok – so the height of business + laziness = a repost…but that is what it has come to. So I present to you one of my early faves from when poor Uber had some seriously hard luck. Enjoy!
The Southpaw Shuffle:
Imagine the worst possible scenario for your family. Your house floods, your dog dies, or perhaps your next door neighbor starts up a zydeco band. For our family, true tragedy struck just a week ago in the form of my 13-yr-old son, Uber-Techie, breaking his arm.
Now if Uber-Techie had just stayed put in his butt-worn computer chair, none of this would have come to pass, but you could make a case that the whole incident was my fault. I made the foolish suggestion that Uber-Techie and his 11-yr-old brother, Hyper-Techie, go outside for their weekly supply of fresh air and enjoy the newly fallen snow.
The story gets a little fuzzy at that point, because they hadn’t been outside long when H-T came dashing back inside saying something about them trying to build a snowman (how 20th century and quaint), and U-T had somehow slipped, and could I come quick. I’ll admit, I was picturing U-T hidden behind the deck post ready to ping me with a rock-hard ball of ice, but mothering instincts kicked in, and I thought I’d better check just in case. Sticking my head just outside the door enough to watch for incoming frost pellets, I saw U-T. On the ground. Moaning and holding his arm. What kind of mother was I, anyway?
Well, three hours, two Xanax, and $1,700 later, poor Uber was stuck on the couch, his arm in a cast, and his spirit crushed. You see, life was now essentially over for U-T. The arm that he had broken was his right one – – his mouse-scrolling arm, his Wii-remote-controlling arm, his texting arm, and….God help us…his wiping arm.
“If you had just let me finish my level on Final Fantasy, none of this would have happened,” U-T lamented. My head drooped. What kind of mother did this kind of thing to her thirteen-yr-old son? Sent him outside in the god-forsaken cold, unsupervised, to build a man out of freakin’ frozen precipitation when he could have been safely tucked in his room chatting with strange 37-yr-old men on the net and drinking cocoa. I pray no one calls social services….
I know what to do! Passing the buck always makes me feel better. It could have been those stupid tennis shoes uber picked out last month. I told him he should have gone with the cute blue and white high-tops with TREAD on the bottom, but did he listen? Of course not. And now look where it got him…..whew. Guilt relieved. I’m feeling totally better now. Oh God, I just heard him call me from the bathroom.
WHY did it have to be his right arm??!! This is going to be a long six weeks.
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