Baby's first . . . .

Monday was such a DAY! You know what I mean, right?
Uneventful. Nothing super exciting. And then it became a day of infamy! A day that will live in memory, and be dredged up over and over again throughout the years.
It was 2:45ish when Boober got a little whiny. Nap time! So I took him upstairs and started the process of attempting to get the little bugger to sleep. Boober hates sleeping, so after about a half hour of fighting him, I gave up and took him downstairs. Sweet Pea had fallen asleep on the floor of the livingroom. When Boober saw this, he went charging toward her, giggling and shreiking. He jumped on top of her and gave her a big snuggly hug . . . and then went on his way. Over the next 15 minutes or so, he returned to his sister over and over again to hug, prod, and poke at her. It was on one of these trips that he climbed on her back. He must have startled her, because Sweet Pea tossed him. He landed with a very loud WHACK! and spent approximately 75 seconds crying. There was no bump, no lump, no real mark except for some lines on his forehead.

Honestly, is this the face of a child watching his favourite TV show? (20 minutes before the issue became known)

 Since he was so easy to console, I put it out of my mind. Clearly, he was just fine. I turned on some Yo Gabba Gabba and let the kids watch while I started tidying up the kitchen. Less than half an hour later, Boober was tugging at my pant legs and whining again. It was just about 4 - traditionally his witching hour. I picked him up and sat on the couch to console him. He gave a mighty heave and barfed all over me and the couch. I had just barely cleaned myself and the couch off while Boober dozed on my shoulder when he went for round 2. It was about then that I made the connection -- when he was tossed, Boober had landed on his head. And now he was vomiting, and passing out, and acting all wrong. He hadn't been dancing to the tunes on his show. He was refusing to eat or drink anything. This was all very, very wrong.
Boober had a concussion.
Of course, due to Murphy's law, my car keys were in Mr. Wonderful's car. In Guelph. 45 minutes away. In retrospect, I should have called an ambulance - but it didn't seem all that dire at first. He was drowsy, yes, but he was concious -- and then suddenly he wasn't anymore, and it was almost impossible to wake him, and even when I could, he couldn't stay awake for more than a few seconds at a time. And he just kept barfing and barfing - everytime I changed his shirt (and mine) he would go again. I was absolutely terrified. Was my baby dying? Mr. Wonderful was only minutes away from home by now -- should I call an ambulance anyway?
So as soon as Wonderful came through the door (early and in a rush, since I had called him) I packed Boober into his car seat and drove like hell for the ER.
We sat in the waiting room for 6 hours. At first, Boober would only lay on my shoulder. He barfed a few more times. Then little by little, he started returning to himself. He sat up on my lap and observed the others in the waiting room. He walked over to the vending machines and pushed the buttons. He did a little colouring. He asked for yogurt and ate the whole thing himself. He did some more colouring. He started being friendly with the other people in the waiting room. He ate another yogurt. He ran for the door over and over. Just when he started loudly demanding chocolate bars, we got an exam room.

Long story short, by the time they got to him, Boober was completely back to his old mischievous self again. He was diagnosed with a minor concussion and we were sent home.

 Why will today be dredged up over and over? Because Sweet Pea gave Boober his first concussion. And because Mr. Wonderful was the concussion king as a child. He got one every year . . . and now it looks like Boober may be trying to keep up. So while I'd just like to forget about it and move on, that's very unlikely.