This week Bogen experienced his inaugural trip to the ER. Frankly, the way Bogen rolls through life, I expected this day to come much sooner. Much, MUCH sooner. But, this kid? He wipes out, pops right back up and says "I'm ok". To the point where it should probably go on his gravestone. He also has a wicked sense of humor. It would work.
While in the basement he stepped on a piece of plastic which slid across the carpet. He lost his footing and landed on his arm. Hard. He did not pop up. He did not say "I'm ok". He was clutching his arm and crying. The in-pain cry. So off we went because I am not going to be that parent that lets their kid walk around with a broken arm for two weeks. I have enough crap to feel guilty about already.
In addition to always popping right up and saying "I'm ok", Bogen does not stop talking. Like, ever. He falls asleep mid sentence and wakes up desperately saying all the words he did not say throughout the night. As the wasband says, the child does not have an inner monologue. It all flows out.
We were in the ER for close to three hours. There was a gorgeous "I Spy" mural on the wall. Most kids would go a dozen rounds or so and then peter out. They might ask for the tablet or a book or even the kindle fire that is now attached to every bed. Bogen? Nope. Child went a solid three hours. Except for the time he was getting his x-rays. Towards the end, my eyes hurt to blink and my ears were ringing. "Momma, your turn." Those words might haunt me the rest of my life.
Bogen is fine. There is no break. I was happy to leave the hospital with that good news. I may have been even happier to leave that mural behind. I'll never tell.
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