Mother's Day. The kids strap on their roller blades and get ready to go outside. We sit and watch them go. Helmets? Brooklyn, check. Taylor, check. Knee, wrist, and elbow pads? Brooklyn, check. Taylor, nothing. Let's see. This would make the 437th time we've told Taylor to strap on all of her safety equipment. Well, maybe she needs to land on her butt a couple of times to get the message.

Five minutes later, Taylor is screaming. Little kids scream! We've gone running a thousand times to find out that they are just playing. We have become numb to the screams. Taylor didn't stop. That's not good. Something is wrong. We start to dash outside and see Taylor walking toward us holding her right arm. Must not be too bad; she's walking. Her sweater has slipped down hiding her hand.

Taylor sits down and Shari carefully pulls her sweater up over her hand. Everything looks okay. Taylor complains that her wrist hurts. Probably strained it! Shari carefully lifts Taylor's arm supporting her hand and elbow. Aren't wrist suppose to be connected to the hand and forearm? Looked like a loop in a slack rope.

Shari went to the Medi-Center with Taylor. The Medi-Center met them in the parking lot, took one quick look and told them they needed to go to the hospital. Took three hours to get taken care of. Taylor was a little whoozy from the medication she was given and plopped down on the couch. Brooklyn moved in close to see how her sister was doing. Taylor turned into the girl on the Exorcist and hurled about six feet. Brooklyn screamed and made a beeline for the exit.