Like every other geek in the land, I spent my weekend reading Harry Potter and the Half Blood Prince. I started at 12:30 a.m. Sunday, slept for about four hours, went to church, then finished around 7 p.m. Sunday night.
By 7:30 p.m. Sunday, I was wishing I had Hogwart's doctor Madame Pomfrey's magical powers to heal any injury.
Especially broken bones.
My son was goofing off, like he always does. I was nursing my youngest. My older daughter was zoned out on the couch by me, watching some show on TV.
My son loves to sit on the coffeetable. He's been all over it since he was one. I've long since given up trying to keep him off of it.
He was sitting on it. He moved to scoot back. He scooted diagonally. Lost his balance. Fell. I watched in horror. Tried to unlatch my little one and toss her at her sister to catch him.
He landed right on his left collarbone.
I just knew, watching, that he'd broken it.
My son has a high tolerance for pain. It's one of the reasons we can't keep him out of daredevil trouble. Normal bumps and bruise never faze him.
This was no normal bump.
He cried for almost 30 minutes. We gave him Motrin right away. My husband made banana milkshakes to calm everyone down. We called our pediatrican.
By the time we reached her, we decided the best thing to do would be to put him in a sling, give him more Motrin, and try and get some rest. First thing in the morning, he'd go to the doctor.
That's what we did, and the doctor confirmed it: Broken left collarbone. We have the films to prove it. He snapped that sucker in two.
So, now he looks like a little linebacker with his brace (because you can't put a cast on a collarbone). I bought out Target's collection of 4T button-down shirts a mere two hours ago.
All in all, he's fine. He's even bonded with Dad, who managed to break his left collarbone no fewer than three times as a kid.
And yes, the genetic jokes and like father, like son jokes have been running rampant around here.
Doesn't change the fact that if I had any magical powers at this very moment, the ones I most envy are Madame Pomfrey's.