I am not sure this photo does justice the actual Halloween hair Alden had when we got him to the hospital. Absolutely solid red. We had our traditional and long-planned post new baby couples night out on Tuesday night. In my high school friend trio, we visit the new addition in pairs. The four of us not having a baby visit the two that are in the hospital and then have a good adult dinner out. We had just been laughing about how in the last four years we had gone from just a big night out to actually caravanning in a mini van sitting between car seats. Well, we made it about 5 minutes, literally, in the hospital room and the hospital is, literally, a half mile probably from our house. We get a call that says that Alden was playing in the closet and a shelf fell on his head. Something tells me illegal climbing was involved. He is bleeding badly and we need to come home. A few years ago, we would have jumped and ran, but we calmly said our good-byes and made a plan with our caravanning friends for their subsequent sudden departure as well. We are really skilled at keeping calm during emergency illness and injury by this time.
We get home and there is indeed a good amount of blood. We promise him a popsicle when he returns home and pile him up in the car. Spencer is telling me that Aldy hurt his head. He then thought that we were going to the doctor "see the baby"and wanted to come too. Hence, Spencer also gets a popsicle to stay home. Alden chats us up the whole way to the doctor despite the hole in his head and really doesn't understand why in the world Daddy would want Mommy to ride in the back with him instead of upfront with Daddy. He plays with the toys, we read magazines together. Hey, it is a total one-on-one date night for Alden and his parents and he is eating it up. It doesn't take but a glance by the nurses and doctors to establish that stitches are an only option. They put on the numbing cream and tie giant gauze around his head. Alden is concerned only with the Sponge Bob stickers on the wall and making sure that the doctor knows he can write his own name.
Wait, it gets better. He gets to watch Madagascar! We wait for a while and play a few games. I mean, he is in hog heaven and getting to stay up late. The doctor brings in paper and pencil to watch him write his name while she cleans his head and preps for stitches. Now, Alden is a whiney, whiney child (we love him to death). A paper cut, mosquito bite, the scrap from the bamboo on his toe, the invisible boo-boo only he can see... these are dramatic crying moments that require super hero band-aides, Mommy Kisses, and Neosporin until there is no trace left. A hole in your head and about 30 stitches? Ah, no sweat Mom and Dad.
Best patient, bravest little guy. He stayed perfectly still and drew pictures and played with a water syringe like he was sitting at the kitchen table. I think he is tougher than he gives himself credit for.
By the time we leave the hospital, it is about 9:00 pm. There is a McDonald's across the street and he is convinced that we are going to get him McDonald's for dinner. We have never, ever taken this child to McDonald's. I said I wouldn't and it is the one parenting issue I do not give in on. Yes, even on road trips. His great-grandmother gave him a McDonald's gift card when he was a baby and it had a photo of french fries on it. That is all he knows about McDonald's. We used the gift card to get Daddy about six large iced teas. The only thing open is a bistro in our neighborhood at that time on a Tuesday night (happening town, right?). We get him a panini with fries for the latest dinner he has ever had. He runs home and brags to his grandmother that we got him McDonalds. Yes, a four cheese McDonald's panini with a blood orange (no pun intended) popsicle. That is Alden's McDonalds and we let him believe it. He is fine now. He was a miserable pill for two days because he was so tired from it all, he can't swim, had to miss a slip and slide birthday party, had to miss swim lessons, had to miss gymnastics class, and has really greasy hair because it has to have medicine twice a day and can only be sponged bathed. But, we will never see the scar under that hair and he has pretty much forgotten all about it.
Fast forward to Saturday. Alden walks in the kitchen while I am cooking dinner and says, "I need you to come and see something. Are you going to get me in trouble when you do?" Uh-oh. That is all I can say. The two foot walk to the playroom was a long one. He has busted out the window. With what? A train. Why? "I got excited." What??????? He got excited?! I know this is a huge copout, but I really didn't even know what to say to this. I mean, time out just seems silly for actually breaking the house and to tell the truth, I was actually sort of having a hard time not laughing at this random situation. This is a step above the purple crayon all over the baseboards and toy bins when I was told, "But it is our playroom, so we get to do what we want in here." So I pass the buck. I say, "Your punishment is to go upstairs and tell your Dad." He didn't know what to do either. We can say we are taking the money out of his allowance but the kid only makes $4 a week and just started last week. Maybe Pinterest has a suggestion for this, too. Has everything else. Oy! We are just getting started... x3! We should probably invest in a kick-butt first aide kit as soon as possible.
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