It’s been awhile since I’ve had anything to post. I think life has slowed down a bit. Maybe the kids are getting a little more mature? Last week I met a college friend for coffee and she was automatically looking for a Little Man story. They were always so entertaining. I had nothing. Then I saw Sue on Wednesday and I told her flat out that I think that my life is getting boring. Nothing ever happens around here anymore. I don’t have any funny stories any more…
Little Man was just ten months old when he learned to walk. He was ten months old and one week when he fell and broke his first bone. Seriously. Back in the day, he was a pretty chunky kid. In fact, one of Ms. Cocktail’s favorite baby stories to tell about Little Man is the day we went to her house and the bigger kids were riding bikes. I had Little Man in the Baby Bjorn, well, kind of, the parts of him that would fit anyway. He was kind of busting out as I chased Ladybug up and down the street on her bike. Apparently this was a hilarious sight to see. So when he fell a few months later, there was a lot of weight landing on that leg. How could he not fracture it? Not to worry, it didn’t deter him. He was back to walking with his cast the very same day it was put on him. Those were his toddler years. I was busy.
There was the week that Little Man was in two different ERs, in two different towns, two days apart, for two completely unrelated reasons. The first trip was when he took a header into a step up in to my in-laws’ dining room and split his lip on the outside and on the inside. He didn’t cut it all the way through, but we couldn’t tell, because it was bleeding on both sides. If you ever want to be seen quickly in an emergency room, take a screaming four-year-old with you. We only sat in the waiting room for about ten minutes. I don’t even remember what the second trip to our local ER was for, but it wasn’t for the lip.
It’s not just injury, however. One year, he caught every single stomach bug that came through town. Every. Single. One. Fall, winter, spring. He spent a lot of that school year lying on the couch. It’s a good thing it was just preschool and that he didn’t miss much. He also has reactive airways (not quite asthma, but kind of like it), which meant every cough stuck around and stuck around when he was younger. He’s had pneumonia twice (at not quite six years of age) and we have our own nebulizer, because he needs it.
But he doesn’t just get in to trouble on his own. Last winter he threw up all over the kitchen floor on my birthday, so I had to keep him home from school. He wasn’t sick, he just has a nasty gag reflex, but I couldn’t tell in that moment so I kept him home just to be safe. Sue really needed me to watch DJ that day and is familiar enough with the gag reflex that she was willing to roll the dice. Little Man was fine. I was pretty sure of this the moment I called his school and said that he wouldn’t be coming in, but confirmation came at 10:30 that night. I went into the spare bedroom to iron some pants for work the next day and found a hole in the ceiling over the bed (and chucks of ceiling all over the bed). The boys had decided to see if they could jump on the bed and put a Nerf sword through the ceiling. They were successful. Then there was the day that we went to Sue’s after school last year and the boys were riding around in DJ’s little jeep. They kept gunning the engine while trying to go up a little hill next to Sue’s driveway. They almost flipped it several times. Luckily, Sue and I both know better and put their bikes helmets on them.
These were the kinds of stories I used to have about Little Man all the time. He must be growing up. Right? Oh wait. Just a couple of weeks ago he wiped out while running down the sidewalk in flip flops and trying to jump through a hula hoop, like a circus animal. Then he wanted to help make his lunch last week and grabbed a hot cookie sheet barehanded. Oh, and he just finished his course of antibiotics after getting Lyme disease. He’s not growing up, I’m just be getting used to it. 🙂