Thursday, February 9, 2012

Toe-body Knows The Trouble I've Seen

The things that my son gets into and says slay me on almost a daily basis.  Yesterday evening, while playing an innocent game of "lets throw stuff over the fence into the pool," my son decided to pick up the heavy play slide and . . . who knows.  Not even he knows.  Sometimes things just exist to be picked up.

This picture has no bearing on the story.  It's just so I can show how cute he is.  It's also a bit dated.

Of course, it is a heavy slide.  So it slipped from his fingers and landed on his foot.  A couple of hops around the house and I thought all was well.  I went to work, we ate cake.  More about that later.

I came home at 10 PM and he was holding on to his shin for dear life, weeping.  "Get to bed!" my husband proclaimed.  "Mommy, it hurts so bad!"  my son argued back.  So I took a look - hmmm, not really swollen but kind of firm to the touch.  So I cuddled him until he fell asleep (don't tell his friends.  Nor his enemies).

He woke up several times in the night because of the pain, and when he woke in the morning crying about it, I said, "No problem, you can stay home today."  "Yahoo!" he cried, leaping out of bed.  Then he stopped and said, "Oh yeah.  Ow!"

I was sure I was snowed.  I made an appointment with the doctor and was relieved to find out - no!  I was not snowed!  He had an infected toe.  What a relief.

Isn't that dumb to feel relieved that there really is a (semi)serious medical issue going on?  I hate going to the doctor and seeing her give me The Look.  "He's fine," she'll say.  The subtext I always hear is, "Really?  Calm down, Hoverlady!"  But not today!  Today I got my money's worth.  "Keep his activity level low," she advised. 

After running out of the building, skipping up the stairs, racing to the car and talking about the bike riding he was planning for later, all punctured by thoughtful "Um, oh yeah.  Ow!  It still hurts," I thought about asking next time for suggestions about keeping a 6 year old's activity level low.

On our way home, I had him call my husband to give him a guilt trip.  "Daddy, you were WRONG!" he crowed into the phone. "I DO have an owie on my toe!" 

We all felt better after that.

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