I would love to think of a word more suited to Z than ‘precocious’ but for now, I’ll stick with that.
This past week has been an interesting experiment in raising an almost three year old. Actually, I feel like my job as a parent is now more about keeping him alive and out of the hospital than anything else.
I’ll start with the most recent incident.
Yesterday, we went to the Pow Wow at the coast and decided to stop by the factory stores on the way back home. We had the jogging stroller but opted to let Z walk since he had been stuffed in the car seat so long. Our first stop was Carters to check out the cute baby clothes. Z decided he wanted to play his new favorite game, hide-n-seek (“You count, I’ll hide” he instructed) and immediately dove under a clothes rack. We indulged him for a minute, and then told him to come out. He wouldn’t budge. Mom, Dad and Grandma all told him again to come out but he stayed put. Grandma tried getting him out and said he seemed to be stuck. We looked underneath and he had both index fingers stuck in small holes on one of the bars! His little arms were as stretched as far they could be (in a crucifix-like position) and his fingers were very stuck, past the knuckles. We tried pulling, which resulted in Z screaming. The store clerk, Kelly, came over to check it out then ran back to get some lotion. We started dismantling the rack and poured lotion all over, but his fingers were still no budging. Each time we tried pulling, Z would let out a blood curdling scream. He was really panicking and crying hysterically. I was down on the floor with him, trying to hold him up so his arms didn’t get so sore and Colin was trying his hardest to get Z’s little fingers out. Grandma had the good idea to run next door to the book store to get a book for Z, as a distraction. In the meantime, the store manager came over and did what she could. We all finally agreed it was time to call 911 to cut him out. We explained to Z a fireman would come help him and he seemed to calm down a little. Kelly’s quick thinking to grab a box Z could stand on to relieve some pressure, helped as did Grandma reading his new book. The fire department came, and an extremely kind firefighter named Steve came in. He talked to Z a little, explained who he was and started pulling his fingers. Z was in awe and just stared at Firefighter Steve with a silly grin on his face. And, just like that, he was free! We think it was a combination of standing on the box (which helped relieve the pressure) and that a real firefighter came to save him. :0) So, Steve invited Z outside to look at the fire engine. The EMT came and quickly assessed his fingers then gave him a stuffed puppy and asked if Z would ever do that again. Z said “noooo” and waved at everyone. He was left with a couple small cuts on one finger and a little swelling, but was otherwise ok. The rest of us were obviously quite shaken and relieved!
I have to say the staff at Carters was extremely understanding, kind and helpful. Kelly and her manager Fran went above and beyond to do everything they could to help. And, the Lincoln City Fire Department was amazing. Those guys were so personable and engaging, Z calmed right down.
So, thank goodness all ended relatively well! :0)
We were all a little busy to take pictures during the ordeal, but I got a picture of the EMT giving Z the stuffed puppy.
A few days before the Carters incident…
Z and I had just finished lunch when he bumped his head on the dining room chair. I kissed it better and he moved on…or so I thought. I was in the kitchen cleaning up, when I noticed he was unusually quiet. Then I noticed the sound of rustling paper. Well, as any parent of a two year old knows, those two sounds together are very bad news! When I went to the couch where Z was sitting, I noticed the box of bandaids and a bandaid wrapper, but no bandaid. I asked him where the band aid went while I scanned his entire body (nope, not on the arms, legs, face…). He then turned his head and said “It’s right there” pointing to the back of his head. And, sure enough there was a Diego bandaid stuck to his hair on the back of his head. I tried pulling, but Z has my hair (
very fine) and his screams convinced me there was only one way to get it out. I grabbed the scissors, much to his dismay, and started cutting. He was very upset (I’m not sure if it was more because I was cutting his hair or ruining his bandaid) and screamed the whole time. After several minutes of snipping and telling him to hold still, I got the bandaid out. Besides the poor bandaid being cut in two, Z was missing a fair amount of hair (luckily he has a lot, so it wasn’t too big of a deal). Once again, I asked if he would ever do that again and his response was a vehement “no!” We’ll see…
Then, just two days before
that…
Z likes to run behind the couch between the window to ‘hide.’ He usually announces he’s there, so it’s no big surprise, but he enjoys the game. This time I noticed he had ran back there, and was too quiet. When I checked, he had a package of gum in his hands getting ready to open it. I took it away and decided since I was there, I would open the window. Z was leaning back with his hands on the window sill, until I started opening the window. For some reason, he put his hand on the track at the same time I was sliding the window open. He started screaming and his face turned white. I picked him up and ran to the couch to check him out. He had a huge chunk of skin off his pinky and was bleeding all over. I grabbed a washcloth to clean him, but when he gets hurt he won’t let anyone touch him. He cried and screamed for about 15 minutes while I held him and tried to keep him calm. I knew when Colin got home, between the two of us we could get it cleaned and bandaged. He calmed down just before Colin arrived, and was happy Daddy was there to give him love too. While Colin distracted him by putting a tattoo on one arm, I cleaned and bandaged the finger on the other. A week later, and he still has a big mark on his pinky which I’m sure will leave a little scar. I’m sure it won’t be the last though; I have a precocious kid. ;0)
