Thursday, December 10, 2009
Uh Oh
TREVOR: I have a feeling his first words are going to be, "uh ohhhhh...".
The week could not end soon enough. I caught some sort of throat infection, my second knock-me-on-my-butt cold in as many months, just when I'm trying to pull together my last assignments for the Fall / Winter semester.
Then, The Incident. I was at the doctor's getting tested for strep when Trev texted me: He just slammed his head into the heater.
"The heater" is the third in a series that we've bought to try and keep Doodles warm when he's having naked time. This one had the advantage of not blowing gales of hot air, so it didn't dry out his sensitive skin as much. But it also tended to get really, really hot to the touch and it didn't have the screen that ceramic heaters have, for example.
And Mac has learned to roll over in recent weeks. See where this is going?
When Trevor turned away to reach for a diaper, Mac suddenly rolled over with gusto and smacked his head into the ridges on the oil-filled, blazing hot space heater. By the time I got home, the burns on his head had blistered significantly and we discovered more on each of his hands. I called Health Line. She asked me A LOT of questions. I mean, I pretty much had to get out a measuring tape and a protractor. Her advice: take him to the ER.
The ER sure jumps when you say "I burned my baby". There was almost no wait for us. Mac, meanwhile, was perfectly fine, smiling, nursing, entertaining the entire waiting room with shrieks and coos.
The prognosis was good, the treatment simple. Just second degree burns and aside from a rather severe "Harry Potter" scar across his forehead, hopefully no permanent damage. Then they told us to wait a minute because Social Services and Child Justice wanted to talk to us....
I guess the Health Line tipped off the police. They do that in any case like this where a baby is involved, particularly if you say "his dad was watching him". Poor Trevor. But our interviews lasted all of 30 seconds and we were free to go, with profuse (and unnecessary) apologies. I guess our story jived with the distinct shape of the radiator grill marks seared into his head.
Trevor feels so, so bad. But when I ask him to list off the litany of injuries he survived, as did his brothers*, I gather he feels a bit better.
*these consist of poisonings, fires, falls, being kicked in the head by a horse, and being run over by an Econoline van. Trevor really needs to start his own blog with some of those stories. It's a miracle he lived to procreate. Is it a boy thing?
posted by Working From Home Today
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