Reagan's Fall from ... Well ... The Chair ... I think ....

Little Reagan has been climbing on top of everything. And I mean everything. Tables, chairs, computers, couches, speakers, beds; you think of it, and she's climbing on it. Last Friday evening (October 24) Reagan kept climbing on the chairs in the office while Taylor and Will played on the computer. After watching her for about five minutes to make sure she had given up on climbing on the chair after her first fall of the evening, I walked out of the office into the loft. It was not more than twenty seconds later I heard a thud come from the office.

I ran back to the office wondering how I could have been duped by something so small and cute. Taylor and Will had not missed a beat playing playing on the computer. Reagan lay sprawled face down on the floor, a slight whimper slowly leaking out. When asked what happened, Will completely ignored me while Taylor shrugged and then said, "Reagan fell." Well, duh.

It was time for bed, and this crying child had obviously has enough for one night. After all, if she were really hurt she would actually break out into a real cry rather than her "I'm too tired to live another minute" whining. I took Reagan into her room to put her pajamas on.

After the nightly struggle to put pajamas on a baby who knows this is her last chance to stay up, I realized Reagan was not moving her left arm. This was not normal. I tried to get her to move either arm, and finally she started moving her right arm around, but only to poke at her left arm. This was a little strange, especially since she had not given up her vocal fight against her pending crib incarceration.

I called Cyd and asked her to cut her evening shopping ritual short so we could take Reagan to the doctor. She reluctantly came home, while I found someone to what the other rug rats. Our wonderful neighbor Kerry obliged.

Since the urgent care place, much to my chagrin, was no longer open at the late hour of 9pm in this 24 hour town, we headed to the emergency room to add financial pain and misery to our family's ailments. By the time we got in Reagan was just happy to play with us and laugh, until the doctor got his hands on her arm. There was the cry that I had been waiting for, the cry of pain. Good thing that only lasted a few seconds. Then we got some really cool x-rays.


Well, I guess there was no question the bone was broken. Both of them actually. We made the doctor show us the x-rays since Reagan couldn't stop laughing at games such a patty-cake, peek-a-boo, and give-me-five. The evidence was hard to argue, especially after the suspicious look I got from the doctor when I asked if this was really Reagan's x-ray.

Then Ariel came and back in with a temporary cast. Reagan was already weary of Ariel because he tried to touch her arm when we first came in. Now he had a big bucket of water and some strange medical stuff. Then Reagan broke down as I turned her over to this strange man and his assistant. They molded a temporary cast on her arm, and wrapped it. Reagan couldn't be happier.


Our little angel still had a grand time playing with all her toys and getting into trouble.


After a wonderful weekend that Reagan used to learn how to get into just as much trouble with a broken arm as she was before. You'd think nothing had ever happened. The only thing getting in her little way was a sling. But not for long.

Monday morning Reagan and I went to see the Pediatric Orthopedic Surgeon. That is a lot of words for very, very expensive. After questioning me in several different ways about how Reagan got this "very, very severe" broken arm, he cast Reagan's arm in a permanent cast. I got to pick the beautiful purple color.


Of course I was trying to get a picture of Reagan's cast, but since Cydnee feels bad that I cut off most of her face, I should publicly apologize. And since my loving sister has publicly decried my babysitting skills, perhaps Cyd will have to find something else to do in the evenings besides shopping . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .