A Heart Attack With a Stomping for Good Measure

Yesterday afternoon, we took the dog for a walk. He deserved it after his ordeal with sadist vet in the morning. We have these trees in our neighborhood that are dropping "berries" the size of softballs. Okay, they are really only about the size of large cherries, but they are freaking huge and they range in color from red, to pink to weird gray. Considering the birds leave them alone, I find this an ominous sign for their ability to poison a small child, who of course would find such a "ball" endlessly fascinating. This is, of course, what Collin thinks they are because no, they are not squishy, but hard and bouncy.

I gave up telling him not to pick them up and decided to just focus on making sure he didn't eat the little suckers. Good plan, I thought. Besides, he wasn't wandering off from me and I figured I'd notice if he was eating a basketball. It's hard to miss something that big in the kid's mouth. Something that takes more than one bite takes a little while to eat; I'd be sure to notice, right?

Well, we went for our walk and returned and started eating dinner a short while afterward, at which time, my son commenced whining. I guess I shouldn't say "commenced" whining, as he'd been making it a marathon sport all day, as I'd mentioned in my post from yesterday afternoon. But, the whining increased to a pitch that I'm certain was beyond just irritating and was actually something wrong as it was more focused. He started clutching at his neck and belly and yelling, "neck boo boo!" or "tummy boo boo!" And, he started using his armpit and forearm to scratch at the rest of his chest. I'm not sure what developmental milestone it is when kid's learn they have fingers for that sort of thing but I don't think I've ever seen Collin use his HANDS to scratch.
Okay, what's going on? I stripped the kid in his chair. Everywhere he complained of having a boo boo was covered in weird welts that looked like pimples with bright red heads. He was downright hysterical and a broken record of "neck boo boo" and "tummy boo boo." So glad he can talk, by the way! I was less glad to hear "neck boo boo!" and watching him clutch his throat. Was his throat swelling shut? What was going on? Vocabulary kid. Get more--and FAST!

So, I asked him if he ate a ball. You guessed it. Of course, he said yes. And, he also ate a spaceship, a doggie, a cat and a tunnel. But, specifically, he said he ate a ball and it was yucky, pew! Aaaaah! When did he eat a ball? When! When? When! I didn't totally believe him, but what was I supposed to do? Out of the chair he came and into the car we went. Emergency room, here we come.
He screamed almost continuously about his neck and tummy boo boos. Ack! Drive faster. Then, about three quarters of the way there, we saw a bus, then a truck, then some trees that looked like a tunnel and pretty soon, the boo boos got sidetracked by these fascinating discoveries. Sure, he was still whining and throwing me reminders that they still existed; but only intermittently between his exclamations of what he was seeing out the window. Phew. Was he getting better?

So, when we got there and I had to park on the roof of a six level parking structure outside the E.R. (not a good sign for how busy they are!!), I re-examined him and found that the welts had drastically shrunk and I gave him the third degree again. He was still pretty insistent that he ate a yucky pew ball but he said "boo boo all better," then "go amber house," since we were in the same building area as his speech therapist. So, we went home. By the way, he was none to pleased that we did NOT go to Amber's "house." I tried to explain that she wouldn't be there at 7 p.m.; but, you try rationalizing with a kid who just ate a spaceship. It can't be done.

By the way, Daddy thinks I made the right decision by taking our little peanut to the E.R. even though it turned out to be a wasted trip because, heck if he had stopped breathing, we'd be in the right place. But, he made sure to tell me how I made a big mistake by not picking up a basketball, oops, I mean berry and bringing one with me to show the docs when we got there.

SCHMACK! You know what that sound was. It was me smacking Daddy upside the head where he is in D.C. all the way from California for giving armchair emergency advice to Mommy when she'd just finished the super freakout and was still in the throes of pretty much freaking out.

Today, he woke up telling me he had a tummy boo boo and that he ate a yucky pew ball and he made sure to tell Amber the same thing. I still don't know if he did or not; I'm betting not. Regardless, he scared the daylights out of me. I think he enjoyed watching me be terrified!

But, before his nap today, he thought that since I had only had a heart attack last night, my cardiovascular system hadn't been through the wringer enough in the last 24 hours and he wanted to kick it while it was down. He usually says, "I love you, Dada. I love you, Mama," before he goes to bed, regardless of who is there. Today, the stinker looked right at me and just said the Dada bit and then laughed. I asked him what about Mama, doesn't he love Mama and of course, true to his "no" phase, he said no. Little Crapper.

P.S. Pictures today are totally random! Just Collin enjoying what will be his last Jack in the Box meal after speech therapy...hooray! He's all done with speech therapy. Yippee! He's officially considered normal or beyond. I'm so proud. When he finds out he won't be going anymore and worse, won't be getting anymore hamburgers, he's going to be ticked off! And, there's pictures of him playing in the "tunnels" I've been letting him play in the last few days, and consequently torturing Homer. I can't save the cat if he keeps going in there! Oh, and there's me, the way I get most of my shots of the sweet man, with my feet up on the couch, having a magazine read to me. Ahhh, the life. Oh yeah, and is it just me, or is that kid the cutest, most handsome kid on the planet? No one tell me how long his hair is. I know. I know.