Cy and I had our first big owie and subsequent trip to the hospital emergency last night.

Don’t worry though – everyone is okay!

It all started with what seemed like an innocent slip on the bottom stair. Cy’s foot didn’t quite land right on the step and he fell, catching the edge of the stair with his forehead on the way down. He didn’t fall far, or very hard, and it didn’t seem like much of a spill.

Until I picked him up and saw a giant bruise growing fast and furious on his forehead. And a nice open gash to match!

That’s when the panic set in.

If you recall, Dustin and I took a first aid class before Cy was born. We studied chocking, burns, and broken bones, but I couldn’t recall for the life of me anything about rapidly doubling in size purple bruises on foreheads. Cy was screaming, Frank was barking, and I couldn’t reach Dust on his phone. What to do?! What to do?! I tried desperately to control the bleeding (which wasn’t much) while simultaneously trying to calm Cy down. Should I take him to the children’s After-Hours clinic? Should I rush him to emergency? Should we even go anywhere? Maybe 911 should come to us???

In the end, I grabbed my purse and ran to the car. It didn’t seem serious enough to warrant calling 911, but looked bad enough that it might need stitches. Better safe than sorry, I thought. And off to the hospital we drove.

I couldn’t remember if I locked the front door. I forgot to bring a sweater for Cy. I might as well have left an iron burning into the ironing board. I was completely disorganized and unprepared. All very unusual for me. But in that moment, with blood running down Cy’s head and all these thoughts rushing through mine – my only priority was to make him feel better. Fast!

But by the time we arrived at emergency, Cy was laughing. Yes, laughing. How do you explain to a 13-month old that if only he would scream and cry inconsolably, we may get in to see the doctor faster? He was too busy making friends. With the triage staff. With the security guards. With other victims in the waiting room. In less than 3 hours, almost everyone in the hospital knew him by name. Fall? What fall? That’s how I knew my little Cy guy was a-ok. He was his usual bubbly, laughing self in no time flat. He didn’t even cry when the doctor ripped off the band-aid and cleaned the wound – he was grinning at him from ear to ear!

Such a trooper that little hooper is.