Zach, Alex, and I went to our friends’ house to watch the Steelers game yesterday. We ate cheese and crackers, chips and queso, had some delicious grapes, enjoyed watching the game in HD while attempting to convince Alex not to touch things that he shouldn’t touch. Alex was well behaved, only stepping on a few crackers and successfully spitting out semi-chewed cheese once in a while.
At one point, Alex stepped behind the chair that had his portable high-chair strapped on it. At first, I thought he was playing peek-a-boo. His grunting led me to believe otherwise. After he finished the job, he reached his arms up and tried to do a pull up on the chair. His attempt made the chair tumble backwards, knocking him over. He was like the Wicked Witch of the East, with only his little feet sticking out under the chair.
We rushed over, and I pulled the chair off of him. He started crying instantly, and flailing his arms and legs. I picked him up, and Zach and I examined every little part of his body to make sure he was okay. I poked every single square inch of his body, rubbed his entire head over and over again, and mostly was just whispering to him trying to calm him down.
He seemed to be recovered; he was walking around fine, eating more grapes, enjoying all of the attention. Our wings arrived, so we put him back in the highchair and gave him some blocks to play with.
Then he threw up. All over the high chair and on his cute Steelers hooded sweatshirt.
Worry overcame us, so I called the pediatrician and spoke with a nurse on call. She asked a million and one questions and told me that he was probably fine but that I should wake him up throughout the night to “test” him. So, poor Alex had to be woken up from his deep sleeps, taken into the light, and made to play and walk around in the middle of the night. He was not amused.
He seems fine. There is a nice bruise above his left eye, but otherwise he is looking and acting normal. So normal, in fact, that he is successfully trying my patience as he refuses to sleep today.