“What’s the number to CPS?”

Yesterday as I was getting the kids ready to leave the house so we could have lunch with Grammy (my mom), Bubba was laying down on his bedroom floor with Yellow, his blankie.  I reached down and grabbed his hand to help him stand up so I could put his coat on him.  He stood with my help, and I turned to grab his coat.  As I did, he began to cry loudly and said, “You hurt my arm, Momma!”

This surprised me since I hadn’t pulled hard or yanked and hadn’t heard or felt anything crack or snap.  I pulled him close to me and cuddled him expecting the pain to subside quickly and the tears to stop.  He’s a tough guy and usually tells me he’s okay and goes on his merry way.  But this time was different.  He continued to cry for several minutes.

Finally, I asked him if he could move his arm this way and that way and he could every time.  However, when I asked him to grasp my finger with his left hand, he said he couldn’t.  When I told him to try, he did and began to cry even more loudly.  After a few minutes he stopped crying and laid down on his bed with Yellow.

I took this opportunity to consult with my husband, who was at work, to see if he thought I should take Bubba to our doctor.  We decided to wait until after our lunch with Grammy to make the decision.

Getting Bubba into his car-seat seemed to be painful for him, so I gave him some Tylenol in hopes that it would take the pain away.  He fell asleep on the way to pick up Grammy.  I was glad because I thought he would wake up as good as new and have forgotten about the incident.  But when we got to the restaurant and I woke him, he immediately began to cry.

I carried him into the restaurant and babied him.  I let him pick his seat and held him when he wanted to be held.  The whole time, he never lifted his left arm one time.  Though, he ate and did not complain about any pain.  Because he refused to use his arm, I decided to stop by the doctor’s office on our way home.

Bubba didn’t hesitate to tell anyone who would listen at the doctor’s office that I had hurt him.  But I was confident enough in my mothering that I wasn’t the least bit concerned!  The doctor’s assistant couldn’t get Bubba to hold his arm up for the x-rays so I had to leave my other two children with her while I coaxed him to cooperate with the technician.  Then we joined his siblings in the exam room to await the results.

In the exam room, I noticed huge change in Bubba’s willingness to use his arm.  All of a sudden, he was fine.  He climbed up on the exam table by himself (no small feat when you consider he weighs 40.6 pounds at 2 1/2 years old) and continually used and even leaned on his left arm.

A few minutes later, our doctor, who is the greatest, walked in and said, “What’s the number to CPS?”  I laughed because I knew he knew that I hadn’t hurt Bubba on purpose.  And, praise the Lord, he confirmed what I had already ascertained at this point: Bubba was just fine!

Everyday is a new adventure with little boys!  I’ve yet to see if the same is true with little girls!

P.S.  As I was publishing this post, Bubba fell and hurt his foot while trying to climb on a bench to reach the Teddy Grahams.  (He’s fine.)  Maybe I shouldn’t be so confident that someone won’t call CPS on me!