When I had children, I knew it could be dicey. I knew they could be a handful, a challenge or heaven forbid: trouble. So far, I have none of that, with either of my children.
But every now and then, Jack gives me a run for my money. He has been in an ambulance three times:
1. playing his Game Boy down the hard wood staircase. He fell all the way from the top. (carpeted those bad boys the next week)
2. Dancing in the bathtub when he was a baby. H-U-G-E bump on his head. If not for the grace of God and one very cute nurse……Jack was fine.
3. I think he fell one more time, when I was away. My husband called and I could hear him screaming over the phone. He was OK, but now the town paramedics know him by name.
Jack has broken his fingers playing basketball, his arm on the Ripstick and his ankle in LAX. He is a toughie. But this time, this ER visit was different.
Jack ran into our room and said he swallowed a quarter. He was flipping a coin deciding which piece of Halloween candy to eat when that rogue coin miraculously found its way down his throat. Off we went.
The x-ray is clear as a bell. It’s in there and should be moving south by this weekend. I won’t go into detail as to how we are insuring that it actually leaves Jack, but I think you can figure that out. In the event that it does not follow the path of least resistance, then off to the OR to have it surgically removed.
He is tiring of the “got change” and “hey, piggy bank!”. Will this stop him from doing this again? Probably not.
Nobody said it was easy, but really?
This story reminds me of our talks on the train. You always had an amazing way of telling stories of “the wobblys” and other hilarious happenings in “The House with the Pasta on the Floor.”