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It’s my fault my son went to the ER twice in three days

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Let’s start from the beginning, shall we? On Wednesday, my five year old son busted his lip on a playground. Typical childhood injury, right? My husband took him to the ER and I rushed there to meet them. “My baby!” I cried the entire 20 minute drive there. With the help of a very talented plastic surgeon, my son was put back together almost as good as new. Crisis mostly adverted and some could argue I over reacted a tad.

While walking out the door, the doc said to my son, “Be careful, bud. We don’t want you back here.” Enter Karma.

Three days later, I snuck into a city pool (that’s a story for another day though) with my 7 year old son and 2 year old daughter. While explaining to my oldest son that he couldn’t get hurt because then we’d get caught (please, hold your judgement), I got a call from my husband.

“We’re in the ER.” He said flatly.
“You’re joking.” I hysterically.

He was, indeed, not joking.

Same son. Same week. Same hospital.

In what can only be described as the extreme opposite of your typical childhood injury—quite the freak accident in fact—my son slipped climbing over the couch, hit an unhung picture frame with his knee and the glass sliced (yes, sliced) his knee cap. There are many things in life you can’t unsee. The inside of your child’s kneecap is one of them. Again, I sped to the ER. 3 hours and 20 stitches later, he was discharged from the hospital.

What did we learn this week? Well, a few things.

One. No matter how many times during the pandemic you tell your kids not to end up in the ER, low and behold, you may end up there twice in 3 days.

Two. It’s not not my fault. While we’re not totally sure whose fault it was—and there have been many, many debates about it among the kids—we’ve decided that even though I’m not the one who was there when the accidents happened, it was technically my idea to have the kids in the first place so…it is my fault. (P.S. It’s always moms fault.)

Three. While I can’t take the wild out of my child, I can put him in a bubble. Or at least I can try.

This crazy, clumsy, but always sweet little boy cannot be stopped. Unless cartoons are on, of course. But when he goes, he goes hard. And, god, I love that about him. While, yes, I do want to tame him sometimes, I wouldn’t change his free-spirited, playful nature for the world. He is a force to be reckoned with and while that may land us in the ER a handful of times, I also know it will land him success in whatever he pursues.


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