You keep me on my toes, you know you do. You do wonderful things like hug me and tell me you love me, you untie my sneakers when I come in from a run, and bring me orange juice when you know I need it. You like to snuggle up to me before bedtime even though your friends would tease your mercilessly if they knew.
You also like to look me in the eye at the dinner table, smile and pass gas with absolutely no care for decorum whatsoever. You try to blame it on the dog, but we don’t have one.
Your latest stunt, my dear dear child, was a doozy. You came home from school, casually mentioned something about getting hit on the hand with a soccer ball / basketball, that your finger hurt a little but it was no big deal. You showed me said finger, it looked a little swollen (you totally enjoyed that it was the middle finger) but we figured some ice and ibuprofen and you’d be ok.
Two hours later you show me your finger again. It’s even more swollen and turning black and blue. Ok, we need x-rays. I called a friend to come over and watch over your brothers and off we trek, with you protesting that I am being overly protective and a worry wart and “I know it isn’t broken” (You have been wrong before, I’m just saying). Hello, kid, I am your MOTHER – it’s my job to worry and you cannot fire me.
It must have been broken finger day at schools across the province because there were a bunch of kids waiting for x-rays with sore fingers. But luckily we were in and out of the ER in 90 minutes – unheard of for the Children’s Hospital but I am not complaining.
While we are sitting there waiting you casually tell me that when the ball hit your finger it pushed the bones out of place. Ow. And that you pushed the bones back into place immediately. Double Triple Ow. The Doctor said that that is a dislocation, and must have really hurt. You shrugged as if it were no big deal. “Pshaw, doc, I am a man, men do what men do” – that was your attitude while I was almost passing out thinking about the pain my baby must have been in.
Luckily the finger wasn’t broken. Luckily the x-rays were normal. (can they x-ray your head and find out where your cheeky gene is located so we can isolate that and block it off? Thank you). They taped your finger to the next one and sent us packing.
Your comment on the way home – “see, I told you it wasn’t broken” – was so smug. Listen, mini-dude, if you would have been straight with me about the dislocation, I might have agreed with your initial assessment but you didn’t think it was important to mention that to me BEFORE we trekked to the ER.
So, sweet child of mine, I have ordered a job lot of attitude adjustment and bubble wrap. You are not going out to play until you are married with kids of your own. Over protective much? Me? Pshaw!
The woman who brought you into this world kicking and screaming, and wonders when the kicking and screaming will stop….