Walk it off...

My leg still hurts.  More today than yesterday.  Oldest Boy is very compassionate when one of us is injured.  He BELIEVES it when you say, it really, really hurts - no, I mean it really hurts.  He has said to me many times this week, "What can I do to help you Mom?"  He's a better mother than me...

About four years ago we drove to Arizona to visit my folks.  We stopped at a gas station in Kanab, Utah for the typical pit-stop things.  We usually dehydrate everyone so we don't have to make bathroom stops.  We like to cram an 11-hour drive into nine or less if possible.  We must have shown some mercy on this particular trip.

The pit-stop was over and it was time to assume our positions in the car so Speed Racer and Trixie could set a new record.  Oldest Boy was moving fast and appeared to fall off the curb on to the greasy, black gas-station pavement.  He was crying, "My foot, my foot, my foot!"  I said, "Get up!  The ground's disgusting!" [humiliating, but true]  Chris and I helped him into the car, both of us telling him he was fine.  "You're okay, just calm down," we said over and over.  Oldest Boy said "It's broken.  You're not listening to me.  It's broken."

A month later, Oldest Boy was still limping on that foot.  In addition, he was complaining that he couldn't see very well.  A complaint I thought he was using so he could sit closer to the television.

I casually called the pediatrician's office and said something like, "Hey, this isn't red alert or anything, but Oldest Boy has been complaining about a sore foot for several weeks, AND he says he can't see very well.  It's probably nothing, but when you have an opening...  I just don't want to be one of those overly concerned mothers."  [which by the way, I've been an overly concerned mother at times - likely why I swung so far the other way - BALANCE, BALANCE - must be my mantra]

A broken foot, a cast and a pair of glasses later, Oldest Boy was on the road to recovery.  Forgiveness of his parents would come later.