
My little boy got his first broken (or cracked) ankle. Last night he jumped off the coffee table, aiming for the bean bag, and instead landed on his ankle, grazing his brother’s head. He was immediately yelling for ice, and crying, not acting like himself when he usually falls.
He doesn’t complain when he’s in pain. He’s had double ear infections before, and carries on as normal, we don’t know easily when he’s injured. Last night though, he cried out in pain in the middle of the night, and still wouldn’t walk on his foot this morning, but claimed he could hop to the birthday party he was invited to.
Instead, we spent a few hours at the emergency room to find out that he had a slight crack in one of his bones in his ankle, his foot was wrapped in a temporary fiberglass cast, and he’ll get a hard cast at some point next week.
He’s so tough, and I am proud of him. I on the other hand, don’t like seeing him in a cast… at all. There’s just something that doesn’t sit right with me. I was antsy and impatient the whole time while we were there, and just wanted to get him home. I’m glad he’s so brave, I kept petting him, and looking at him, and at one point he just looked over, smiled, squeezed my hand, and then pushed it off of him. He makes me laugh, he’s never been one to cuddle.
He’s also so positive. I was bummed for him that he’ll have to miss some baseball, possibly his first game, and he just said, “well, I’ll have to get a baseball video game!”
I’m sure this is the first of many trips to the emergency room, and I’m glad it was a small deal to start with!