Another Milestone . . .

Well, so much for swimming lessons and soccer games.

A trip to the playground yesterday evening ended with a trip to the hospital for Sonwun. And, in addition to the tooth that fell out last week, Sonwun can now add "first broken bone" to his list of milestones.

He, Aunt Nizzie, Sontoo and Neomom walked over to the school playground after supper last night, while Grampa, Uncle Dave and I stayed home. It was a relatively short trip. I was looking out the front window when I saw Neomom hustling across the lawn with Sonwun in her arms. I could see he was crying. That had to be trouble. He generally only cries for short periods of time when he gets minor injuries. The fact that he was still going strong, and was being carried, well, I knew it was something a little more serious.

Turns out my little daredevil had been pushing the limits, as is his way. He was trying to jump up off a platform and grab a wheel thingy that's probably a little more than six feet off the ground. Well, he caught just enough of it to swing his feet out from under him before he lost his grip and fell. He tried to break his fall with his left arm and, well, broke his left arm.

Fortunately, Uncle Dave is a Nurse Practitioner. He had a quick look and said that, well, yeah, it might be broken. So we loaded the boy into the van and headed for the hospital. The ER was packed. But apparently 4.5-year-olds with possible fractures do get bumped up the list and we were in in no time.

And once we found a comfortable position for the arm, he began to calm down. And, in the process, found his way to anger. He told me through his tears that this particular piece of playground equipment was "naughty" and made me promise to go and cut it down "forever!"

And while it was kinda cute, it was the only part of this process that really surprised me. I wasn't expecting this level of anger, mostly because I'd never seen it from him before. But we talked our way through it and shifted the conversation away from the fall.

We talked about the "cool pictures" the doctor would take of his arm bone and how he might even get a cast. Uncle Dave and I explained the long and proud tradition of broken bones in the family and the nurse promised him a popsicle.

By the time we were ready to head to x-ray, he was so calm and cool that I began to believe it was just a sprain. Wrong!

It was a buckle fracture of the wrist. Certainly not the worst kind of fracture, but bad enough that he will be wearing a fibreglass splint/cast combo for the next several weeks.

All in all, it took about 2 hours at the ER, which is pretty good. Last night he slept fairly well. And, as I write this at 5:20 a.m., he is still sleeping.

As for me, I am gonna make a quick run to Tim Horton's, grab an extra large and then head over to the playground with my hacksaw before the world wakes up. After all, a promise is a promise.

Have a great weekend.

Loose Tooth Too Early

So, Sonwun has two loose teeth. And no, according to the Mayo Clinic website, it isn't natural. These things are supposed to start happening around age 6. Sonwun is just shy of 4.

But Sonwun is an active little bugger and is now incorporating his new toy (Sontoo) in his daredevil, live-on-the-edge games.

And yesterday, the game was hide-in-a-blanket. The basic premise of this game, as best I could tell, was that one of them gets wrapped up in the big fluffy comforter (the fort) and the other is the invader who jumps/falls/rolls onto the structure in an attempt to gain access to said fort. Then they both laugh hysterically and do it all over again.

Well, as with most of these games, it's not long before someone is crying. And yesterday it was Sonwun. While Sontoo wandered about the living room looking for the next game, Sonwun was screaming bloody murder. Seems that in the course of the game, he'd landed teeth-first on Sontoo's skull.

Sontoo, even at 18 months, is a bit of a tank. Doesn't complain much unless food is at issue. The teeth to the skull didn't seem to bother him in the least. I did check his head after I learned what happened and didn't find any bite marks. Must have been protected by the fort. (The fort is strong in this one.)

In any case, when I got Sonwun settled ("Hey, look, Diego's on . . . silence.") I took a look to see where or if he was hurt, as I missed the actual episode.

No blood on the lips, no blood on his head, no new obvious marks on his face . . . ah, there we go. A thin line of blood where his front tooth meets the gum. I've seen this kind of thing before, in the mirror. (That's a bunch of stories for another day) So I immediately grabbed the tooth and gave it a little wiggle. And it wiggled. Not much, but enough that I knew he'd done a little damage.

Nothing seemed broken, or too loose, so I figured it would be okay. Checked with my trusted advisors at Dadstayshome.com, who suggested I call a dentist, which I did. As I suspected, they said the tooth would probably tighten up again and there was no cause for concern. Just give him a little Tylenol before bed and check it again in the morning.

I checked the Mayo clinic site, by the way, just to find out, in the event of a worst-case-scenario, how long Sonwun one would be a gap-toothed wonder before his adult teeth started to come in. Also wanted to know if losing a tooth this early would impact the proper alignment of the adult teeth. No worries. If he loses it, all should be fine.

Anyway, busy day ahead. Must go grocery shopping as soon as the store opens, so I can make Playgroup by 9:30, which will give me the afternoon to do the laundry and get supper ready.

Cheers!

Bad Weekend

Crap, what a weekend.

I'm seriously questioning my daddy skills following two near disasters yesterday. The first scared most of the crap out of me and the second got everything that was left over.

Let's start with Sonwun. Sonwun likes mints, the Scotch mints, spearmint to be specific. Each ride in the van begins with the question, "Daddy, may I please have a mint."

Yes, we have worked on his pleases and thank-yous and we are quite proud of it.

But I digress.

He's been enjoying the mints for more than a year and we have become quite confident in his ability to enjoy them without choking. Well, yesterday he requested and received his mint and we were on our way to the store when I heard a gurgle-cry-moan from the back of the minivan. I looked around and there were tears flowing down his face and he was half crying, clearly having trouble. I yelled at him to speak, wanting to know he wasn't choking, and at the same time I was trying to look for a place to pull over. Speak, speak, speak!!

In the three or four seconds that it took me to pull off the road, I was going over anti-choking measures I'd learned when he was a year old. At that time, he was choking on some food at lunch. I called 911 that day and, by the time I was able to reach someone ("all of our operators are currently busy, please stay on the line . . ." Seriously) I had turned him upside down and thumped him on the back. Technically, it was the wrong thing to do, but it turned out right. The food was dislodged and I stopped shaking about 8 hours later.

Immediately following that episode, I looked up choking and learned that, even at that age, I should have Heimliched him. I read up on the procedures, determined that if it ever happened again, I'd be ready.

SPEAK!!

Fortunately, yesterday, the Heimlich wasn't needed. He started speaking and crying and everything turned out fine. But it was about 10 seconds of pure terror for both of us.

And then it was Sontoo's turn. I was in the middle of cooking supper. Sonwun was watching Finding Nemo. Sontoo was upstairs exploring. The bathroom door was closed, so I knew he couldn't get into trouble. All of the other rooms have been toddler-proofed.

So I stepped outside for a minute and was sitting on the back steps when, off in the distance I heard a crash, a loud crash, and I heard a baby starting to cry. I wondered what was going on over in those apartments a block or two away. I didn't want to listen, so I went back inside and closed the door. But the sound didn't go away. In fact, it was louder.

I rushed upstairs to find Sontoo standing beside an overturned dresser. Thank goodness he wasn't under said dresser. But he was standing in a sea of broken glass. A glass jar that we'd been using as a piggy bank, an antique clock with a glass face, several little porcelain statues - all smashed and littering the carpet.

I scooped him up and started inventory. I was sure I was going to find blood somewhere, or at the very least a nasty bruise. But, miraculously, he was fine; not a scratch. I still don't know how he managed to pull the dresser over, but until I figure it out, that room will be off limits as well.

In spite of the fact that it all turned out well, I spent a rather sleepless night, getting up at 2 and 3 to check on Sontoo, thinking I might have missed something, expecting to find a bruise that took time to develop. I checked on him in his crib and then went downstairs to listen to him breathe through the baby monitor. It was a long night.

But this morning, everyone seems fine. I'm very tired and very leery about letting either one out of my sight. All part of being a daddy, I guess. Still, I can't wait 'til mommy gets home so that we can share the paranoia and the panic of parenthood together.

Four days, four hours, 28 minutes to go.