Our baby boy has such pretty bones

Thursday night, just before I got home, Luke wiped out on the kitchen floor. He laid on the floor and cried (maybe we should install Life Call?) Paige was still holding him when I got home, but hadn't yet squeezed every part of his arm. So I scooped him up and did the typical dad thing ("Does that hurt? Does that? How about that?")  No squeezing really made him cry out in pain, other than just trying to move it in general.

Paige ended up taking him to pediatric urgent care, suspecting nursemaid's elbow (or radial head subluxation, if you want to be technical.)  He's done this a few times before.  Actually, this is the first time he's done it.  The other times we were... well... pulling on his arms.  In love, of course.  Kid's just got lousy elbows, I guess.

Anyways, the urgent care did x-rays with what they claimed was a horrible x-ray machine.  Apparently it can only detect massive fractures.  Not sure what good it is then, but we did get some pretty pictures of our baby boy's bones!

No massive fracture there!

So they tried to put his elbow back in joint.  Luke screamed, but no one heard a pop of it going back in.  The doctor left so Luke could calm down.  At that point, he claimed he had been fixed.

"My arm is all better.  We can go home now!"

Kid was lying through his teeth, cause he didn't want that doctor anywhere near him again.

The next morning he woke up, still crying everytime he moved his arm.  So off we went to his real pediatrician, Luke and I.

The nurse practitioner took one look at it and knew it was his elbow.  She tried to get Luke to reach for a sucker.  He wouldn't even smile, cause he now knew what that meant she was going to do next.  She grabbed his arm, twisted, and even I heard the pop.

After he calmed down, he reached right above his head to grab that sucker...

Meanwhile, back at the ranch...

Noah woke up in the morning claiming "I didn't get enough sleep, so I think I am going to throw up."  Paige made their favorite breakfast of a pancake on a stick (seriously good stuff) to lure them to the table.  Noah didn't even touch his.  That's when we knew he was actually sick, and told him he was staying home from school.

Levi was claiming to be sick as well, and the thought of going to school without his brother really made him want to hurl.  He said "Who will I play with if Noah doesn't come to school?"  So he got to stay home too, even though he packed down his entire pancake on a stick (and half of Noah's too!)

Noah ended up tossing his cookies at 8:30, 10:00, 12:00, 2:00, 5:00, and somewhere around 7:30.  Levi hung out on the couch with him all day with sympathy pains (never once threw up.)  Luke sat next to both of them, still holding his sore arm (or resting in on his three (three!) fluffies.)  All three on the neat sheet to protect the furniture.

And I went to work at noon, wishing my day could be nearly as pleasant as a dislocated elbow or six rounds of vomit...  ;)