Breaking Doctor’s Orders

While waiting to pick up Anna from a friend’s birthday party, we decided to kick the soccer ball around at Frontier Park.  This is a big no, no according to Cody’s doctor.  The day Cody went in to have his wrist casted, the doctor was in such a foul spirit I actually caught myself glancing down at her finger for a wedding ring, a sign of a husband, possibly children, someone with whom she would have to show some sort of compassion or love towards.  But her words were clear, “Get rid of those roller blades!  And even if you think of kicking a soccer ball around, and say ‘Hey, Mom, look!  I’m not using my hands!’  No, you can’t do it!  No kicking a soccer ball!”  You can’t.  You can’t.  You can’t.  She even made some reference to the fact that Cody would, basically, be doing nothing all summer vacation.  It was like handing out a death sentence to a 12 year old boy. Now, in her defense, the second time I met with her she was a completely different person, smiling and encouraging, so I am not sure what was with the Jekyll and Hyde character.  Anyways, I told Cody that first day that we would make the best of the situation.  I told him of fun things we could do.  He said, “I don’t think she will let me do those things,” referring to the doctor.  I whispered, “We don’t have to tell her.” So here you are, Cody, caught with a soccer ball, and your secret is safe with me.