Earlier, he and his older sister were playing in the basement when he took a header off a toddler jungle-gym onto a carpeted floor, but he wacked the back of his head pretty hard. He got right up, but it didn't take me but 10 or 20 minutes to decide he likely had a concussion, and mother's instinct (and having experienced something similiar with my oldest when she was his age) paid off. By the time the advice nurse called back from the doctor's office, I already had the three of us dressed, and by the time the doctor called back 10 minutes later, we were half-way to the emergency room. He tossed up his breakfast once we got there and that settled it for both me and the nurses. The little gaffer was a perfect patient, laying completely still during the CAT scan and dozing through the rest. Turns out he'll be fine in a day or so. In fact, right now he's nibbling some crackers, sipping water and coloring pictures with his sister.
I must admit I let out one incredibly big deep huge sigh of relief when the CAT scan came back normal. And, when we got home, I collapsed on the sofa and sank into a nap beside my dozing son, a rare activity for the both of us. But I'm also somewhat amazed because I felt safe and quiet and steady throughout most of the whole thing (which is especially amazing as my husband was out of town and unable to get to us). And that's something I can't take credit for; that's all God's doing--the peace and helping me to live in it. That's something I still find remarkable in this part of my life. It doesn't make sense. But it is good.