Almost 5 years ago, we had a friend from Germany staying with us for a week or so. We were all laughing and carrying on in our (then) tiny living room, when my husband decided to impersonate a leprechaun on crack and jump up in the air, click his heels together while shouting "You'll never get me lucky charms!" I do not remember why he was doing this, and I don't think I ever figured out why he'd do it in such a small space, surrounded by baby gear for our 3 month old baby, but (as you can imagine) it didn't end well. As he came down from his heel click, we all heard the distinct sound of a breaking bone. My oversized leprechaun turned as white as a sheet, and quickly sat down (which was easy to do, because the room was so small, there was always a seat within butt's reach). I looked down at his foot, and he said "You think it's broken?" I explained to him that there were 2 choices... A. It was broken or B. His ankle was smuggling a softball. He tried to play it off like he was okay, and was "walking" on it... though, the grimace on his face, the hobbling, and the near passing out kinda gave him away. So, off to the hospital we went, where I so enthusiastically, and with plenty of hand gestures, told the story of how my husband was hurt. I mean, it was obviously important for the doctors and nurses caring for him to know what had happened. The 2 janitors, xray tech, receptionist, and a group of bored-looking patients waiting to be seen were just for my own amusement.
Long story short, he broke his ankle, we all heard it, he tried to deny it, but I had to carry the baby and all our groceries and packages up the staircase into our home by myself for weeks... soooooooo that happened.
Now, fast-forward to tonight. My husband, who still thinks he's a kid (or a jacked up leprechaun... almost the same thing, just one has fancier hats), decides to jump our baby gate. We both hear the snap, and he asks (through a clenched jaw) "Did you hear that?" I ask him what it was, and he says "Nothing.", still through his teeth. So he'll probably talk like he has some terrible hemorrhoids and is being forced to sit for a few weeks, but I'll let him deny his injury until it either A. Heals or B. He passes out. Then I will probably draw a sharpie moustache on him just before he comes to and we go to the doctor.