Yesterday night we experienced intense parental emotion number three - worry. With full force.
After changing bambino, I picked him up and the noise he made made my heart feel like it was being torn apart by a hundred rabid pitbulls. I had heard the pain cry before (during his vaccinations) but this was in a league of its own. It started with a high pitched wail and then continued with him not being able to breathe from the screaming.
What had happened? Everything had been the same as usual on the changing mat... Then again, perhaps I had seen him bash his leg on the wooden side? Or had I? Was his leg broken? I did a quick check... Was that a bone clicking?!
As I entered deeper and deeper hysterics listening to my son's impression of Aerosmith's Steven Tyler, Krusty proved why he is the man I always want with me in times of trouble. Staying calm and collected while I broke down into tears and somehow managed to bite every single one of my nails in under ten seconds, he did a systematic check of each limb, managing somehow to soothe bambino down in the process.
And then, as Krusty slowly lifted our baby's legs for a final test, Oscar released a slow and steady stream of gas, sighed with relief, and proceeded to coo and gurgle for the next 20 minutes.
How am I ever going to survive it if bambino has a real problem?!
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About us
- The rat and the monkey
- I, La Gitane, am a monkey. A metal monkey, to be precise. And Krusty, well, he is a rat. No, not the evil type of rat with red eyes and bushy, diseased fur. Nor is he the type of rat that has several monkeys at once. At least I hope he isn't. No, he is a water rat. And together, we plan to take over Hong Kong, one delicious roast goose at a time...
Oh, and by the way, obviously, the copyright to all of the content on this website belongs to its creator and if you should want to reproduce any part of it, you should ask for her permission first if you don't want to be taken to court. So there.
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