Perfect Balance

    Three hours. That's a chunk of my day I hadn't anticipated a run to the ER, but then do I ever? I suppose we were overdue (ha!). It's been a little over two years since the last one (of course, it was Caelan). To get down to it, Paxton did it all by himself. No sisters were involved. No death defying leaps, no scaling the heights to plummet... nope. He fell off the couch. He's five. He fell off the couch and hit the coffee table. The coffee table we've had since just after we were married, that has held up under much abuse as kids bonked their heads on the undersides as they learned to crawl or they used to guide their first steps. Not once in those eleven years of child abuse to the table has the table ever fought back. And really, it wasn't even fighting back today. It was catching him.
    Much blood later, I was assessing the damage while fighting his need to see the blood streams down his face in the mirror. I can only get out of him that he fell and hit the table. Because BLOOD--it's always so much more interesting when it's literally everywhere. I still haven't convinced him that he has a black eye as well. He's so fascinated with the gash in his head. Then that inner argument of "Do I take him or do we slap a bandaid on it?" The gash was just deep enough to make me uncomfortable. I staunched the flow and slapped a bandaid on it. "Who is on the bandaid?" he sobbed. Iron Man. He sniffled once more, "Ok. I can do this." So I send some texts and pics to a friend who would make a better judgment than I and I loaded him up for the ER.
    Ever take a five year old boy to the ER? Apparently he thought we were in Hershey, PA, at Chocolate World, because the hospital architecture is similar. That was a bit of a downer, but he quickly suggested he needed a chocolate shake after because of all the blood. The room we finally made it to had a TV. I was thrilled-- I left the house with little more than my wallet and the kid. Of course, being cable, there were few kid friendly options. Some weird cartoon on Cartoon Network and the Simpsons. Then I finally found a cartoon he demanded he watched. Because apparently the Catholic Network has quite a lot to offer a kid in the afternoon in the ER. Like how to pray the rosary and the Hail Mary prayer. He had more Catholic education in that thirty minutes than any other time of his life. Sister Faustina kept him calm and explained it all. A friend posted a comment on a FB photo of him on the bed and said he looked guilty. He was just involved with the Sister Faustina's details. Take that how you will. Then finally the nurse practitioner came in.
   I've learned over the years of ER runs that it's just best if the kid explains the accident. I've been the mom the nurse glared at as I've tried explaining, as if I'm making up a story to cover my tracks in roughing up my kid. It's a terrible position to be in. So, by all means, son-- explain yourself to the nurse as we dab at the blood weeping from the gash in your forehead. "I was trying to balance. I fell and hit the table." A bit more information, kid. "Well, I was balancing on the edge of the couch with my arms inside my shirt and I fell over." Your arms were inside your shirt-- like not in your sleeves? "Yep, they were stuck inside my shirt. I was balancing." And you fell but had no way to break your fall except to smash your face on the table? The nurse looked over as she dabbed the glue across the steristrips, "And do you think you have good balance?" Paxton said "Oh, yeah. I have perfect balance." The nurse said "I beg to differ."