My 9-year-old daughter broke her left wrist several weeks ago. Both bones. Displaced. After the rush to the ER and then into surgery, her arm was placed into a splint wrapped in lots of fluffy stuff. I thought for sure she'd be put into a hard cast at her first follow-up visit to the orthopedic surgeon, but he merely wrapped some neon orange casting tape around the entire filthy mess and left it all on for another two weeks.
A trip to the doctor's office is the perfect time to ask your emotional mother if you can clip gaudy monstrosities onto your earlobes. She'll say YES! and then offer to buy you ice cream.
At the second follow-up (over four weeks after the injury . . . has it really been that long?), she was placed in a short cast made of lightweight WATERPROOF material. Oh, happy day! She can now take a bath and wash her hair by herself. She'll stay in this cast for 3 to 4 weeks, and then should be good to go. The x-rays show both bones in good position and remodeling nicely.
Dinner last night: heavenly halibut, cous cous, peas