This morning I was taking a shower and The Husband was getting ready while The Boy was in his high chair having breakfast in the kitchen. I heard a loud crash followed by a scream. I hollered to ask what was going on. I didn't get a response so I started to get out of the shower. I started to pull the curtain open and saw The Boy, still screaming, crawling into the bathroom.
The Husband was nowhere to be found. I scooped The Boy up and surveyed the situation. Apparently he'd fallen out of the high chair and onto the tile floor. I noticed that the dog wasted no time trying to get his breakfast remains- she was already standing on her hind legs pawing at the high chair's seat. I found The Husband, who was in the other bathroom blow drying his hair. I was in my towel and The Boy was still crying.
Me: He fell out of his high chair!
Husband: What? How did that happen?
Me: I don't know, I was in the shower. Didn't you hear me hollering?
Husband: No. Where did he hit?
Me: I don't know. I didn't see it.
Husband: How did you know?
Me: I heard a loud crash and screaming.
Husband: Oh, buddy. Where was he when you got to him?
Me: I was still in the shower. He was doing a wounded soldier army crawl to get help. It wasn't bad enough that he fell but he had to seek out comfort!!
Husband: We should really start buckling him in.
Me: Or watching him. I didn't know you were in here with the dryer on.
Husband: That's irrelevant.
Me: No, it's not.
Husband (to The Boy): Come see daddy, buddy.
Me: I don't see a bruise.
Husband: Buddy, let's see if you can walk.
(He puts him down and The Boy takes two steps and falls down. This is his normal pattern of walking because he's 11 months old)
Husband: Oh, he's not walking good at all. I think his balance is off.
Me: He can't walk regularly.
Husband: But he's not usually this wobbly.
Me: He just fell out of his high chair! That would be like you falling off the roof.
Husband: I think we should have him checked out.
Me: Will you put some clothes on him? I'm going to get back in the shower to at least rinse.
(I rinsed and got out to help. He'd already calmed down)
Husband: He's doing his tricks and using his limbs fine.
Me: I don't think anything's broken.
Husband: Do you want to take him or not?
Me: I'll text Brett (ER doctor friend) and see what signs to look for. I think he's okay.
(I texted Brett, along with EMT friends Tyler and Mario in hopes that one of them would respond. Tyler and Brett both responded quickly, and Brett called to check on him an hour later. The consensus was he was fine. They told us what to look out for, and I kept a close eye on him. The Husband called several times from work to check on him. Here's a clip of him walking regularly. It's much like him walking with a concussion.)
Once we were out of the danger zone I was able to laugh about it. FIVE HOURS later Mario texted back. Here's what our conversation looked like:
Me (7:45 am) The Boy fell out of the high chair onto the tile. No bruise, no bleeding, and we're not sure where he hit. What do we need to be looking for?
Mario (12:30): How is he?
Me (12:31): In a coma. Thanks for your quick response.
Mario (12:31): Me? What about your quick response? If he's in a coma you should be on your knees praying not texting me!
Poor Boy! He also got his finger stuck in a toy truck, and the paper shredder fell over on his foot. It was a rough day. We felt terrible about his fall, and the fact that he had to seek out his own medical attention. He was like a man calling for a medic on the battlefield. He could have very well been crawling toward the first aid kit when I intercepted him. Thank goodness for medical friends who don't judge. Brett likes to say he's set the parenting bar so low there's nothing you could do that would be below it. We were beyond relieved that we hadn't ruined him. Yet.
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