Emergency Room

We have a very strict division in our house with respect to child injuries.  I handle vomit, Husband handles blood.  So, when The Boy ran into a corner of the kitchen wall last night during his one-man football game and split his head, the job fell to Husband to take The Boy to the ER.

My boys left at 7:30 p.m. and returned home (with The Boy sporting 3 staples but sleeping soundly) at 2:30 a.m.  Though a long process, Husband thankfully decided that waiting 6 hours for emergency room service can be a blessing, as it means that you aren’t the worst-looking patient in the room. 

Also, because he is the best husband in the world, Husband also made careful mental notes on his surroundings to accurately report back any nutty goings-on.  Overall, Husband decided that a late-night ER visit can be a learning experience. 

Here are the various nuggets that Husband took from last night’s jaunt, in no particular order:

1.  Being pregnant (think VERY visible bump stage) in no way, shape or form mandates the purchase of maternity pants.  Or even pants one size bigger.  Just undo that first button and zipper on the ol’ skinny jeans and let the world bask in the glow of your outie belly button.  And, um, pubis bone.  Because girrrrrrrl, you look fiiiiiiiiiiine.

2.  Contrary to popular belief, hospitals aren’t actually meant to be quiet places.  Nope – those convalescing don’t need peace and quiet.  Instead, as decided by our same momma-to-be, those in need of emergency room services can best benefit from a 2-year old running laps around the chair islands yelling indiscriminate sounds.  So for a good 2 hours, Husband heard “aaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAaaaaaaAAAAAAAA!!!!!!”

(After about 10 rotations, The Boy looks at Husband and raises his eyebrows, as if to say “You gettin’ this?”  I love this kid.)

3.  Running laps for a solid 120 minutes can be tiring for a toddler, resulting in a complete and utter meltdown.  Now parents, don’t fret, for momma-to-be will show you the light.  Don’t even think of gently cradling the child in your lap and rocking him or her to sleep.  No, the proper way to calm said child is to empty the strawberry milk from child’s bottle and refill the bottle so the child has a nice, fresh, cold drink.  Of Pepsi.  At 10:00 at night.

4.  The night shift of ER receptionist staff may feel that the post-9 pm crowd would appreciate some blue humor.  Hence the receptionist asking The Boy “were you drunk?” after The Boy said that he got cut after he walked into a wall.  For those of you who may have just joined us, The Boy is 6.

5.  Yet another nickname for The Boy is Captain Midnight.  This stems from The Boy’s Rainman-like propensity to ask for the time on a near-minute basis.  Last night’s ER odyssey was no exception.  At least once a minute, The Boy asked for the time.  This continued (“aaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAaaaaa”) minute by minute from 8:00 p.m. until…..

            1:30 a.m.

            The Boy:  Daddy, what time is it?

            Husband:  It’s 1:30, buddy.

            The Boy:  (head turns wearily away and sighs)  I gotta get out of here.