It is amazing, the lengths a younger sibling will go just to impress the older sibling. Ethan follows his big brother, Zach, around like a shadow. Most of the time, Zach enjoys the attention, as well as the role of demigod. The power does get to his head at times and accidents tend to happen.
It was just another Sunday morning. Dave and I were watching CBS Sunday Morning and the boys were playing outside on their plasma cars or bikes as usual. The two little boys across the street were over as well. With everyone on some sort of toy with wheels, riding in a circle, they look a lot like Shriners, minus the burgundy hat with the gold tassel. To be honest, our house regularly resembles a 3-ring circus anyways. All we need is an elephant and a midget (I’m sorry, little person) clown, and we can take our show on the road.
All of a sudden, we heard Ethan screaming outside and it was getting louder as he approached the door. He is usually the first one in when something goes awry between the four boys. This happens more often than Dave and I like, because that means someone is going to be tattling on someone else, and we want them to handle their issues on their own. This particular scream sounded different, and Dave and I were both on our feet before Ethan even got through the door. “I hurt myself!!!! I hurt myself, " Ethan whimpered as he ran toward me while grabbing his left arm. Keep in mind, Ethan hurts himself a lot so I take these situations with a grain of salt. He always a bruise or a gash of some kind.
Semi concerned I asked him, “How did you hurt yourself?” I couldn’t see any sign of an injury. “I fell.” That’s all I could get out of him. “I fell.” I asked him how he fell. I got nothing but, “I just did,” as I wipe the tears from his cheeks. I knew who to ask next. “ZAAAAAACH!” Zachary came running in breathless and sweaty, “I don’t know how it happened. He just fell!” I could tell I was not going to get the full story now, maybe ever. Dave and I were frustrated because we were not getting any information, as usual, and Ethan showed no signs of being hurt, other than the crying. We wrote it off as Ethan staying up too late the night before and had him lay on the couch with me to calm down. We went about our day. Ethan fell asleep on the coach watching a movie. Zach was back outside playing with the neighbor kids.
Sometime in the afternoon, just before dinner, Dave thought it would be a good idea to play soccer in the front yard as a family. Flashback to the circus reference. We were all laughing and kicking the ball around for a while. Just as Dave was about to go in to cook dinner, Ethan fell, again. He started to howl and was grabbing his same arm again. “It hurts, it really hurts!” I asked him to put his hand above his head, remembering back to the day I broke my wrist, and my inability to raise up my hand. He did it, but only kept it up for a matter of seconds. Uh-oh. He broke it. I was looking at his arm and still, no sign of an injury.
I ran inside and called Urgent Care, to get their opinion on whether I should take him there or to the Emergency Room. They recommended taking him to the Emergency Room since they had not only the X-ray, but also the capability to set his arm if needed. I hung up the phone, and this is where my nomination for Mother of the Year was revoked for 2011. Ethan is a grubby boy. I compare him to Pigpen from the Peanuts often. He had been playing all weekend and I was not going to take him in public until he was clean, especially if they were going to be putting a cast on his arm.
“Ethan, we need to take a bath. Your arm will feel better.” So I lied, but at least he’d be clean. My poor little boy went upstairs, left arm dangling, and I drew the bath for him. While moaning, he jumped in the tub and I scrubbed him as fast as I could. I even tried to touch his arm a couple times to see if I could feel anything, but still nothing, except a scream each time I tried to touch him. I got him out of the tub, got him dressed, and into the car. Off to the ER we went. The entire time Ethan was crying, “I don’t want a shot. I don’t want to go. They’re going to give me a shot!” For the 6 minutes it took to get to the hospital I told Ethan he was not getting a shot at least 50 times. He wasn't buying it.
I parked in the lot outside the ER and pried Ethan from his booster seat. We got inside and fortunately, the Emergency Room was not crowded. Still carrying Ethan, I walked up to the desk and set him down to get out my insurance card. It was buried deep in my wallet, and I had to take out everything. An identity thief's dream, all spread out on the counter. Just then, Ethan bolted for the door. I looked at him, looked at all my credit cards on the counter, then looked at the nurse behind the desk as if I were waiting for her instructions. "GO!" she said to me and I left my purse and all of it's contents right there to chase my terrified boy out of the electric sliding glass door.
I suppose Ethan didn't think any further ahead than running out of the doors, because when I got to him, he was stopped right outside, too afraid to cross the street without holding an adult's hand. Phew. We walked back inside and he sat on my lap while the triage nurse took all of our information and completed my forms for me. Within minutes we were in the back in a room. He looked so little in that big bed, I was on the verge of tears. When we were alone in the room, he would start to cry, but as soon as a nurse or doctor walked in the room he would man up, and act like a tough little trooper. I was seeing my 4 year old as a little man. My big boy followed the nurse to the room where he was getting his x-rays, and followed directions like a champ.
After we were back in the room for about 10 minutes, the ER doctor came in to give us the news. Ethan had a buckle fracture on his left arm. Evidently, when children are young, their bones don't necessarily break. They bend. Gross, I know. By this time, there was bruising, but I swear there wasn't any until now or we would have been there so much faster! Again, Mother of the Year would have to wait until 2012. They splinted him up and gave him the cutest little sling. We had an appointment set up for us the next morning at the orthopedic doctor's office.
Ethan was smiling for the first time since that morning, still sitting in the hospital bed, wearing his sling. I asked why he was so happy after finding out he broke is arm and he said, "No shots!"
The next morning we went to get his cast. I didn't even make him change his shirt for fear of injuring him more, so he got to wear his favorite Sponge Bob shirt two days in a row. He was in Heaven...except for the broken arm thing, of course. As far as the cast went, he had his pick of the rainbow for a color. Back in my day, you didn't have your choice of fancy colors. You got white, which turned dingy in a few days. When the doctor asked him what his favorite color was, I cringed knowing what his answer would be.
After the doctor visit, I took Ethan straight to daycare where he was greeted like a rockstar. All the little girls were swooning and the boys were jealous of the new accessory. "What happened, Ethan?" My toughy little guy said, "Fell playin' soccer."
At the end of the day when we were all home and finished dinner, I heard Zach talking to Ethan in the other room. "Ethan, I am so sorry. I am really really sorry. I didn't mean for you to hurt yourself." I then heard Ethan say, "It's ok Zach, my cast is really cool AND orange." I was finally getting the whole story. The boys had tied all of their ride-on toys together to make a "train" and had Ethan "go first" as all little brothers do. He fell, and broke his arm. I never reprimanded Zach for what he coerced his brother into doing, because he had enough guilt on his own. Just hearing their dialogue from the other room made me realize, I may not be mother of the year, but I must have been doing something right.
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