Monday, March 19, 2012

bombs away!

Roman was jumping off the couch in our unfinished basement and aiming for our bean bag. He’s usually pretty successful but the other day he apparently was not because Greggory scared him so bad that he missed.


After the hugs and kisses and pats on the head telling him he would be okay things got a little...weird

A few minutes later, at dinner, when asked about his new airplane that he’s been excited to get for weeks, he didn’t have a clue what I was talking about. And then when he called his brother his sister’s name I knew something might be wrong. So I called the nurse. And left a message.

“Um, hi, my son was jumping off the couch and he hit his head and now he has short term memory loss. Do I need to come in?”

(Okay, so, to give me some credit I didn’t have to wait for the nurse to call me back to realize that I needed to have him seen by a doctor. I guess I’m just one of those have-hear-it-to-believe-it kind of folks.)

After driving to the doctor and after Roman asking me, oh, forty-six times: “where are we going, mom?” you guessed it I’m sure. Mild concussion. For jumping off the stinking couch! Granted it was a concrete landing, but still! Usually you think of concussions being gotten after cooler or more dangerous things.

He’s okay, now. Back to his old self again. Except, the only bad thing is that because of the short term memory loss he has no recollection of the jump. Which means that he hasn’t learned any consequences. Which means this will probably happen again.



Holland wanted me to play pretend puppies with her one morning.
Okay, I said. We’ll play puppies.
She immediately got on all fours and yelped,

“Barf! Barf! Barf-barf-barf!”

Maybe her puppies need to go see the vet.