Yesterday was eventful. Sheesh.
So we're strolling through Walmart at a leisurely pace, 'cause that's how we roll. Bean is in the front, and Toby rides in the back with the groceries. R2 jumps alongside.
We make it through, like an hour, because my kids are trained to stay in Walmart forever.
FInally we make it to the checkout line, and Brynn STANDS UP. In the FRONT. I am so alarmed I snatch her out of the basket and am holding her, when I notice (in slow motion) that toby is climbing to get in Brynn's recently vacated seat. And, before you could say "Ohhhh noooooooooooooooooo!" he is smashed on the floor.
I drop Brynn in the back of the cart and grab Toby off the ground. Part of judging child injuries is the gasp:cry ratio. We had probably a minute of silent sucking in before the screaming started. SCREAMING. Panic. And immediately people are surrounding me saying helpful things like, "Is he okay?" And the screaming. Oy. It was like Faust in there. At the time I was, of course, freaked out. So I'm just holding him trying to assess where he hit, and what might be broken. The help keeps coming.
Then some official types come around with clipboards and lots of questions. On the list of things I want to happen after my 2-year old falls out of a basket, officials with clipboards is like, number 7. Million.
So I am trying to comfort Toby, and answer questions, and reassure the general public, Brynn is standing in the back of the cart seeing if she can climb out, and R2 is concernedly pointing at his own head and Toby. Yes, Toby bonked his head.
Finally, Toby stops screaming and I put him back in the cart to sign some papers. Wal-Mart's legal butt is covered. A family stays and talks to me for a while, about how to know if it's a concussion and what to do and so on. They were extremely nice, but man! you just can't take somebody's word for it on stuff like this.
By this point I am internally freaking a little more. I don't externally freak, my kid has emergencies all the time... but internally. And now Toby is just blankly staring off into space, not answering questions. Someone says, "oh he's calm now..." and I'm thinking.... never. He is NEVER like this.
So off we drive, after a Wal-Mart rep walks me to my car. YOUR BUTT IS COVERED. I AM NOT GOING TO SUE.
And he just looked horrible and so pale and wouldn't talk, so we went to the ER. He was still sickly until we were actually back in the room, committed to staying. Then he snaps out of it and starts playing, and schmoozing with the staff, and having a great time.
No concussion... we were at the ER for about 3 hours. Sheesh.
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