The kids and I arrived at Jewish family camp Friday. I made no objection when David giddily claimed a top bunk and started to set up his sheet, and then he fell out.

Perhaps the fact that he couldn't extend his wrist should have been a red flag. But since he wasn't crying, and he let me hug him, I was like take two Tylenol and off you go to kids' camp, where you will be playing gaga, think Jewish dodgeball.

He won most of the gaga games, but by dinner time it was clear we needed to consult a higher power. Gino. Gino is my new favorite person in the world. Gino has white hair, a diamond earing and a black beret. He acts as the C.I.T teacher and the camp medical expert and has the best kid bedside manner I have every seen. He gets their concerns and their jokes, and David adored him. I suggested David put ice on his arm; it stayed on for about 10 seconds. Gino thought it might be a good idea, and a giant bag of ice stayed on David's arm for an hour.

Gino thought David might have a fracture, so the complexities jumped a level. We made it through the night thanks to Gino's homemade splint and spent much of the next day planning for or going to the one doctor on the island that had an x-ray machine.

Not a break, just a bad sprain. David added a sling to his paraphernalia, started taking ibuprofen around the clock and improved dramatically. Gino and I tried to get him to take it easy, but walking on slippery logs or playing a vigorous rolling on the ground game of soccer was just going to happen.

He's still wrapped up, but he can grip and bend his wrist. He's hoping to keep the wrap on at least until the first day of school. He's got a story to tell.