I’m not sure how much I can write about the episode that ends with my two-year-old son breaking his tiny, precious little two-year-old leg. If I tell the truth, it’ll show that I’m somewhat mad at my husband for judgment oversight. If I ignore the details, I can tell a tale of how parents can avoid this happening to your child.
HMMM.
Truth hurts.
We are having a quite lovely day at the local theme park, grandparents in tow. My son is having a blast, although a bit tired from skipping his daily nap. It’s afternoon, and we’ve successfully navigated most of the park. The only place left to visit is the playground. We walk by and don’t stop. My motherly instincts says it looks a bit too much for a toddler. Then, I rethink it and decide it’s OK because I see several small slides and things to climb on for kids his age.
We go in and have a blast on slide number one. Mommy takes him, then PopPop takes a turn, then Daddy takes him on the slide. Then, Daddy says, “let’s try something else.”
I think to myself, “I’m going to sit this one out and read up on where we can go for dinner.” I sit on a rock, take my book out and proceed to “take five.”
When I get up I see my husband and son climbing up a steep rope netting to a tall, tall slide. I call up to my husband, but he doesn’t hear me. It’s too late for my opinion. They go down the slide together. When they come up, my son is crying. This is when we leave.
My son falls asleep on the ride home and we decide to take him to the night-time pediatric clinic (if you don’t know about these places, learn about them! They are amazing and let you avoid the ER). After an hour and a few X-rays, we learn that something is wrong and the doctor orders his leg splinted. It’s not until Monday morning that we learn it’s an official “crack” that requires a full-leg cast for four weeks.
My husband feels terrible about the situation and I’ve gotten over being mad. Thank goodness our son is in great spirits about all of it. It’s just one of the many things we, as parents, have to deal with through a lifetime.
It’s been almost three weeks since “the incident,” and I’m fine with it now. We’ve all gotten over feeling like rotten parents and realize that little legs twist, bones break and there’s nothing we can really do about it.
Lesson for parents: When in doubt, sit it out. When I originally wrote this post my recommendation was to be more cautious, but the reality of the situation is that we never know what’s going to happen and it’s what we do after “it” happens that counts.
