Yes! I had made another jump. It was the third one I had made successfully without getting hurt.  I glanced over to see if my sister and her friend had noticed, and in typical three year old fashion, they were clueless to anything except their play world. My sister Annelise’s blue shirt and blond hair stood out from the setting sun and green grass. We had just finished eating with my parent’s friends and their child. The adults were still inside talking. They had a three year old boy named Gideon who was just like Lisey, so they were immediately friends.

I started the ascent to the top of the playset ladder. When I reached the top, I stood in front of the opening where the slide should have been. It had been blown off in a storm last week.

“Julia what are you doing?” Lisey asked

“I’m jumping.” I replied.

All the other times I had jumped, it had been easy. This time, a hint of dread crept into my body. I pushed it away as I thought about how I had painlessly completed the other three jumps. I took a deep breath and jumped.

It was short. I knew it as soon as my feet left the wood platform. I felt my cotton tank top snag on something, and it swung me forcefully upside down. I looked up and saw that my shirt had got caught on the sharp end of a screw that was previously used for holding the slide in place. I knew I was going to fall soon, so I had to act quick. I shouted my sister’s name.

“Lisey! Go get Dad! Now!” I yelled, over and over again. Annelise looked up and just stared at me in either awe or horror, but didn’t get Dad. My shirt should of ripped by now, but since I was so small and weightless, it was holding up longer than I thought.

Suddenly I felt my shirt give. I fell down a few inches. My shirt was ripping.

“Annelise! I screamed through sobs.” She and Gideon were still standing there gawking. I knew I was going to fall soon, so I put my wrist over my head to protect it. Just as I had done that, I heard a ripping sound, and I plummeted.

Pain. Almost too much for my little five year old body to handle. I vaguely saw my sister run inside yelling for my parents. A lengthy minute later, my dad picked my up in his strong arms.

“It’s going to be ok Juls. I’ve got you,” he said.

After an hour or so of sobbing, I calmed down. My wrist was on fire. I could tell my parents were worried, but they were doing a good job of not showing it. The next morning, I came downstairs, holding my wrist to my chest.

“Does it still hurt pretty bad Juls?” Mom asked. I nodded and hugged my wrist tighter. That afternoon, my dad took me to the Grafton Clinic. I went to the X-Ray room, and had an X-Ray done. After a wait that felt like eternity, the doctor came in.

“Her wrist is fractured. I will need to put a cast on it.” said the doctor. They then put on an itchy cast. I rolled my eyes when they put on a drab white cast, not a vibrant colored one.

“Which one of these slings for your cast do you want?” the doctor said pulling out an assortment of slings.

“That one” I said motioning towards the blue one with red strawberries on it. I went home, and showed off my cast to my Mom. I learned two important lessons that day. One, don’t jump of high wooden structures. Two, don’t trust a three year old in an emergency.