My poor boy

Yesterday, I took the girls with me to my parents house for the afternoon. Some friends were in town from Oregon, staying at my Mom and Dad's for the weekend, and we wanted to go spend a little time with them. Carl and Caden stayed home, planning on finishing the gates for the fence they've been working on. They were almost finished, about to hang the gates, then go in for dinner. I was in town with my family, Dale and Wanda having dinner when Carl called, said he was taking Caden to the Emergency Room. I didn't believe him, figured it was one of his weird jokes. (Although he does get carried away with joking, I can't honestly say he would joke about something like this. But it was still my first reaction.) He then explained that he had turned his back to grab the last few screws he needed, heard a funny noise, turned around and saw the gate that had previously been leaning up against the house falling towards a little boy. A little boy who was trying to run from it, realizing what he'd knocked over, but wasn't fast enough. It caught him as he ran away, landed on his legs, throwing him face down on the hard dirt ground. Carl threw the gate off of him, grabbed Caden who was screaming, clawing at his Daddy for help. He took him inside, inspected him, turned on his favorite Blues Clues DVD, tried to console him. What he saw was that Caden wouldn't bear any weight on his right leg. He then threw him in his carseat, and hurried through the twenty minute drive to the hospital as quickly as possible.

We had just finished dinner when he called. After lots of fearful tears, we met them at the ER, which was only a few blocks from where we were at. Caden is such a little trooper; as long as he had a few books and some crayons and paper, he was okay. Based on his demeanor, I think the ER staff thought we were hugely blowing this out of proportion. He was his smiley, silly, stranger-loving self. Well, until the doctor came in and started poking and prodding his lower right leg. Poor boy, he just didn't understand. They gave him some tylenol with codeine, did a few x-rays, and decided he'd fractured his tibia. The best kind of break you can have, apparently. I wasn't sure that a break in my two year old son's tibia was so good, but they told me this was good news so I continued to listen. They put him in a temporary cast from mid-thigh down to his toes, we will go get a permanant one in the next few days. Too much swelling for the permanant one. He only has to wear it for three to four weeks, which doesn't seem too terrible to me. He only has to take some motrin or tylenol here and there, and is handling it famously. The biggest challenge is keeping him still. He DOES. NOT. LIKE. to sit still for long. But, he'll have to adapt I suppose. Last night was horribly rough, he seemed to be in pain, and wasn't happy about not being able to move around like normal in his crib. But he did eventually sleep, from about 4 a.m. until 9 or so. He went down for a morning nap like a champ, too, so I think each day will be easier then this first one. At least that's what I'm telling myself. If anyone has any ideas on how to keep a two year old occupied for weeks on end without his usual running and climbing, pass them along! Once his other cast gets put on, I'll post a picture of him. It's sad to see someone so little with such a huge cast!