Well....

So life is crazy and on Sunday our regularly scheduled programming was interrupted by....Tyler getting a concussion. At church. When the kids were littler I remember asking the pediatrician how I would know if one of my kids had a concussion. They have all taken their fair share of falls and I was worried I would somehow miss it. The pediatricians answer? Oh, you'll know. Well, guess what? You'll know. And it'll scare the bejeebers out of you.

We ended up spending 4 1/2 hours in the ER, waiting for Tyler to perk up. He slept, threw up, slept, and slept some more. They did a CAT scan to make sure everything was alright. Thankfully, it was!! After about three hours he started to get a little spark, and slowly it came back. I knew he was feeling better when he kept whining that he was hungry. The doctor brought him some crackers, which he ate in no time. He also got pretzels, which he patiently gnawed into the letters 'E' and 'R' to commemorate his visit. That was encouraging because it meant he was firing on all his mental cylinders. When he got a little more energy, he amused himself by watching his stats on the machine. I told him that his O2 levels were supposed to be 100, and so he would breath really fast to try to get the line to move. It was pretty funny! He wasn't having problems with this to begin with, but when I told him 'You're at 100, that's good!' he said 'Yeah! When the doctor comes in to see me he'll think I'm awesome.' Crazy kid! After the doctor fed him, he wanted more to eat. You see, Tyler is like a squirrel. For real. He's like the cute, fat and fluffy squirrel you see at the park. It stands there longingly staring at your picnic lunch. You think it is so cute, and you cave and throw it a few pieces of popcorn. The squirrel devours the popcorn and looks cute doing it, so you give it a little more. In no time flat, the adorable squirrel turns into a demanding tyrant who is begging for the last of your sandwich and leaves you questioning why you ever fed it to begin with. That's Tyler. He can sniff out 'special snacks'. I could offer him a snack, he would say no, but he hears you have goldfish crackers and its all over. In this case, who can resist a sad little concussed boy who just wants another snack. And in his defense he was truly hungry. He managed to down a Popsicle before we left. We had to wait until he could walk out on his own, and he did, in his hospital gown and wrapped in my coat with the promise of French 'fwies' on the way home. Which he also devoured.

And now, who knows where I can order a bubble wrap suit to go with the bike helmet I'm thinking he should wear til he's 27?