Well, I’m not the world’s worst mother, but I’m still pretty bad. A little bit after sarcastically posting about Calvin’s dramatic cannonball injury, I heard a bump in the boys’ room. Calvin was awake. At midnight. Calvin does not wake for ANYTHING (not to respond to Mommy alarm clocks, not to get out of car after a late drive home, not to pee in the potty) He was awake and his foot hurt. He was even coherent enough to ask for that “icthe sthingy” (we’re still working on the s factor). I got him an ice pack and set it up, fully expecting it to be kicked off by the time I returned. Nope. Sign #2 that his foot really did hurt. Sign #3 was when he was still limping the next morning. Well, limping, crawling, and hopping on his hands and good foot. I know those are all signs that would make most parents immediately call the doctor. We aren’t most parents. We’re both of the “rub some dirt in it” stock. Ryan frequently diagnoses our boys with Wussitus when they share their ailments. I believe that taking medicine or using band-aids are signs of weakness. And, we’re technically self-paid (found a little way around Obama Care called a health-sharing ministry. Stick it to the man!). And we’re cheap. And but for the strange methods of locomotion, Calvin was acting totally fine. We teetered between calling the doctor as soon as the office opened and waiting it out. Calvin asked for an ice pack at breakfast. I’ll call at 8:00. Calvin tricked Reed into stepping away from his rodeo set and made a mad “dash” to play with it (“You left!”) No doctor. Calvin munched it halfway to the rodeo. I’ll get the phone book. Calvin decides that he wants a cast because, “then I’ll get a sucker and a sticker!” Never mind.
But by 9 we could tell he was definitely hurting. I think it was his protest that he was fine and could walk normally that finally convinced us. His "normal walk" resembled that of Peg Leg Pete. Ryan insisted we have it checked out. I guess we know who’s the soft one. (Although later, he made comments that make me wonder if he was more worried about his future athletic career than his actual foot health…) In the hours before our appointment, we found out a bit more about the infamous incident. It turns out that it was the blue carpet that inspired the whole swimming pool idea (yet another reason why we need to replace Grover). Also, Calvin wasn’t swimming alone. Reed admitted to doing a few tricks himself. “I did a pretend dive.” I guess we’re lucky it’s Calvin who does everything full-throttle. Of course we gave numerous lectures about the appropriateness of jumping on (and off) the bed and the absorbent properties of water compared to those of ugly blue carpet. But even though the boys nodded their heads and agreed, I still won’t trust them in our bedroom anywhere unattended for a while.
As soon as we arrived at the doctor, the nurse said to Calvin, “I heard you did a cannonball off the bed!” He made a typical Calvin face (Sorry, they can’t be described. If you know him, you know the face…) Otherwise, the doctor’s visit was uneventful. A little “does this hurt?,” a couple X-rays, good news and we were on our way. Honestly, it made me regret taking him to the doctor. We paid $179 to have someone tell us he had a bruised foot?! Well, to be fair he did also give the boys stickers. And suckers. And a lecture on cannonball protocol. On second thought, it was worth every penny.
