The good news is, my son does not have any broken bones. X-rays have confirmed it.
The other good news? He’s earned a new nickname this week. Our little Chippy now goes by the name, “The Gimp.” We can thank dad for that one.
Did I mentioned that my husband now refers to my son as “The Gimp”? No? Allow me to give context on how the new moniker came to be.
Earlier this week, Chip was on the playground frolicking happily with his little friends. One minute he was fine, and the next minute, he was standing by the fence, sobbing loudly. No one saw what lead to the accident, but the end result was that Chip wasn’t able to bear weight on his leg.
What we now think happened is that Chip must have sprained his ankle or tripped on a tree root. However, it took us multiple trips to the doctor, several attempts to hold a screaming toddler still during X-rays, and what may amount to some hefty co-pays to figure that out.
We’ve been told that, if it is indeed a sprain, we should begin to see some improvement over the weekend. And I never thought I’d say this, but I’m ready to see him once again careening through the house, screaming at the top of his lungs. It’s been sad seeing my little guy in pain and immobile, when he clearly wants to run and play and do everything Bobo does.
As I was holding my screaming son on the X-ray table, trying for the life of me to keep him still, I thought, “This sucks.”
But last night, in a moment of clarity, it occurred to me. It really doesn’t suck. Because, in the whole scheme of things, we’ve been pretty lucky.
Our kids are, with the exception of the pervasive green boogie monster, extremely healthy. And for that, we are blessed. Until yesterday, they hadn’t once had to make a trip to the emergency room or urgent care.
It made me realize that there are families who go through ordeals much worse than mine was this week. Or who have to watch their kids undergo tests, poking, and prodding on a consistent basis. We’ve been spared of that. And that, is truly fab.
Chip’s temporary setback is already improving. This morning, he made a feeble attempt to limp across the living room, before giving up and lunging on his knees to reach the desired object. (Said object was, by the way, our cat, Booyah.) I have no doubt that, before long, he will once again be tearing up our house, leaving a wake of chaos in his path. I never thought I’d say it, but that is also fab.
And did I mention he had a new nickname? While I’m not exactly fond of calling him “The Gimp,” as least we’re pretty sure that this whole thing will be short-lived.
How much more fab could that be?
I’m linking this one up to “The Good, The Bad, and the Fab.” What was fab about your week?