Newsletter Subscription

Regular Updates on Parenting, Happy Children & Emotional Intelligence

  • Latest Articles - Raising Children with Emotional Intelligence
  • New Parenting Blogs
  • Parenting Tips for Happy Children
  • Free Online Seminars
  • Popular Parenting Books & Reviews

Subscribe!

Regular Updates on Parenting, Happy Children & Emotional Intelligence

  • Latest Articles - Raising Children with Emotional Intelligence
  • New Parenting Blogs
  • Parenting Tips for Happy Children
  • Free Online Seminars
  • Popular Parenting Books & Reviews

CAPTCHA
This question is for testing whether you are a human visitor and to prevent automated spam submissions.
Image CAPTCHA
Enter the characters shown in the image.
Unsubscribe

Blog Archives

View full Archive

Proudly Supporting

Proudly Supporting

A Baby Bird Leaves the Nest ... I mean, Couch

By Michelle Stedman - 12th January 2012

Will was lovingly placed on the couch by his Aunty last week. While all five of our backs were turned for a split second, Will decided to try his hand at some ‘couch diving’; enter horrible crunching noise and blood-curdling scream.

My little man was lying on his back all crumpled on the carpet. His cry of pain went straight through me. My gut reaction was to pick him up and administer kisses and cuddles stat! Oh the drama!

He eventually seemed to recover from the event and happily moved off his Mum to take up games with his Aunty and Uncle again. I remember being amazed at his resilience and independence once he realised that he was probably okay and that the couch wasn’t trying to kill him. Everybody was happy, albeit a little guilty for not having watched Will more closely.

The next morning Will grizzled away, unlike his normal morning behaviour of playing and eating breakfast; nothing seemed to appease him. He was no longer his resilient self. I began to wonder if something was indeed wrong - he may’ve hurt a limb, perhaps a sprain or something. So I began methodically checking his legs, neck, arms, and found a particular tender spot on his right wrist.

I whipped out some Panadol, managed to get a bandage onto the arm, and booked a time to see our GP. Meanwhile, when he wasn’t tearing off his bandages, Will rarely used his right arm for anything, and pushing up to stand made him grizzle. Something was definitely up.

We made it to the doctor's and Will’s examination was fine. Yes! Fine! The doctor felt his arm and Will smiled at her. Yes! Smiled! I felt like the biggest fool. As unlikely as it doctor obviously realised my concern and gave me what felt like a ‘token’ x-ray request. So I went – just to convince myself I wasn’t going crazy.

Skip ahead 24 hours, and the radiographer called me in to her little ‘x-ray cabin’. “There’s definitely a problem there. You’ll have to go see your Doctor straight away.” 

I knew it! My poor little guy was walking around with a break in his arm. Yet he was still functional. He still ate, he still slept. If he’d been an adult, there would’ve been no stopping the complaints.

As I held Will while he got his first plaster at 18 months old, I considered how this little child just went with the flow; how there was no way an arm plaster was going to hold him back from doing anything; how that tiny arm plaster made him look like such a rebel. So many things went through my head and then it truly sunk in. My little Will was now officially his own person. He was doing his own thing. He ducked out from under my wing without me even realising. I once counted us as one, but now we were two. And that made me so very proud.

Member Login

Subscribe to our Blog