I will hardly ever forget that arm lookind like a question mark; but at least I did the right thing of making him talk while taking him to his mother. Instincts, huh. And a 10-year-old memory of my own broken humerus. The kid, even is shock, did good. Or maybe he was so good because of shock but he was coherent and that helped a lot to find his mom. I bet now all the neigbourhood will trust me with their children. 'cause, yeah, nine primary-school-aged witnesses who will babble to their parents all the details. And, oh lucky me, after that they definetely listened to my 'everyone-down-from-the-trees-I-need-no-more-accidents!'
I'll go to Hell for this but how glad I am it was not one of mine or else I shoulde've learned to put a splint and that's too much adrenalin for little me in one day.
P.S. Aaand yes, I'm in France, yaay! My official second week of 'Tour Eifel au fromage' and so far I'm delirious. From the day 1st it was a complete surprise and ruin of all expectations. Just as I wanted, The French Adventure in all its glory. Good for me, I say!
I actually don't mind the most clichéd cliché of Paris, so here, have a photo.