So, today My darling son decided against better notions swimming in his brain to stand on the arm of the leather chair we have in our living room. Despite being told multiple times that it is not acceptable behaviour, he aspired to climb Mount Crapchair.
His foot slipped and he did what can only be described as the most spectacular accidental ass over teakettle/cartwheel I have ever seen in my life, where all I saw was his round little legs sticking up (followed by his head popping up) and then that horrible "OH MY GAHHHHH I AM INJURED!" scream as he scraped his rib cage against the corner of the piano bench I use to store my embroidery stuff in, and also as a side table. At the time he was so mortified, being the sensitive cancer sign child he is, and in pain he refused to even let me look at it. (Definitely my child. This is classic "me" behaviour when I have hurt myself. Howling savage wolf mode.) I asked him several times if he was ok only to be replied to with "DON'T TALK TO ME, I AM EMBARRASSED!"
Well then... Fair enough, if he had the tenacity and awareness to vocalize his emotions, then really, he's probably ok.
Me: "baby, I will hug you later if you want."
J: "ok maybe later. I'm cool."
And really, he seemed fine. 10 minutes later he was running, jumping and rolling. I honestly forgot it happened. Until bath time. Hubby stripped the t shirt off and I all heard was a gasp and "Oh my god! Son! What did you do to yourself today?"
Me: "Oh yeah! It was crazy! I forgot to tell you!"
Hubby: *glares at me*
J: "Daddy I did a big bail off the chair. I wouldn't let mommy see."
He's now sporting the most massive hematoma bruise I have ever seen on his torso, compounded by the fact that he makes milk jealous with his skin tone, this looks doubly horrifying. I think the only thing that stopped him from popping a rib was the fact that he is... Ahem... Rather well padded... Ok, the kid is round.
My hubby who is certified St. John level 2 first aid, and I (merely a concerned mommy level first aid) did a listen of a multitude of deep, full breaths ("J, babe, you need to exhale too...") and poked and prodded around the bruise and he is fine. No screams, He has full range of movement and the only reason we knew he even had the bruise was because he was stripped down for his bath. Surprise!
Worst Kinder surprise toy ever.
So chalk up one for being fat. Or flexible. Or perhaps both. It saved us all a trip to emergency.
Of course it doesn't mean I haven't checked in on him four times so far since he's gone to bed. He may be one tough cookie but he's still my baby.