A fractured wrist

So Huston got his first cast yesterday (and hopefully, last). I never would have imagined my super-cautious, completely non-daring, timid, sweet boy would have ended up with a cast at the tender age of 3.

A seemingly normal fall off of his tricycle seems to have been the culprit. He was riding it around the house Tuesday night, holding Bear Bear and Blankie while he did it. He pedals reealllyy slowly so, as usual, I thought nothing about it. When he fell over to his left side with the tricycle kind of on top of him, he obviously cried and I kissed him and hugged him, but then he got right back up on the tricycle and kept playing. He played until bedtime, went to sleep, and I didn't have a clue anything was wrong. Wednesday morning he woke up, ate breakfast, and my mom said he was riding his tricycle again that morning. He never said a word about anything hurting.

The first clue I had that something was wrong was a call from his preschool teachers around 12:30 that afternoon. They said he was being even more clingy and reserved than usual, that he seemed really sad, and that he wasn't really having a good day. They also said he had kind of been pinching his arm really hard and leaving marks and when Ms. Kate took him out of the room to ask what was wrong, he burst into tears and said "It hurts!" She tried to figure out why it was hurting, but could only really get that it might have been hurting from pinching it. But then when Ms. Kate said that they noticed he hadn't been using his left arm all day, I got really worried. They told me that they put hand sanitizer in his right hand, and he just let his left arm dangle and kind of looked at it like, "What am I going to do now?" I immediately thought of the tricycle fall, but didn't know if it was possible the two were connected. How could he not have said anything all night and all morning, if there was something wrong?

When my mom picked him up from school shortly after that call, she noticed that he wasn't using his arm either, so I made a doctor's appointment and met them at the doctor's office. When the doctor touched his wrist, Huston winced and jerked and cried in pain. My poor baby! He had x-rays done (which he cried during because he had to move his arm in uncomfortable positions), and the doctor said it looked like a possible fracture, but we'd need to go to Cook's Orthopedic to be sure. They sent Huston home in a splint which he was NOT a fan of. He screamed all the way home about wanting to take it off but had finally calmed down by the time we got home.

Thursday morning we got our appointment set for 1:15 at Cook's. My mom went ahead and took Arden to bible study, and I stayed home with my sweet Huston, just the two of us. We had such a nice morning and afternoon together, playing and talking and having lunch at Chick Fil A at the mall. I was holding his hand as we walked into the mall and he said, "Mommy, I love you." It was like a little mommy and son date.

I was worried that his appointment would take a long time, but they got us right in, confirmed that he had a fractured wrist, and got his cast on him. The doctor said it wasn't a complete break, so he'll only have to wear the cast for three weeks (Praise God!). He said that at Huston's age, the bones are so soft that it's really more like a wrinkle in the bone. Huston cried a little bit from fear that it was going to hurt, and then after the cast was on he cried and said he wanted it off. By evening he had mostly adapted to it and was even making jokes about his arms, saying "Look, Mommy, this arm's up and this arm's down."

He went back to preschool today and had a great time. I was sooo grateful. He has been cracking me up with his adaptations, learning how to use his chin to hold and open things. The funniest thing, though, has been the way he's already taking advantage of us because he knows we feel sorry for him. He is forever trying to get us to put his glass of milk back in the refrigerator for him when he's done, and we're always telling him to go do it by himself. I hadn't mentioned a thing about resting his arm or being careful with it, but Wednesday night when he had the splint on, he walked all the way into Arden's room where I was (twice as far as it was to the refrigerator) and said, "Mommy, would you please put my milk away for me. I just need to rest my arms." Of course I did it.