It's Tuesday, and I'm not sure we're totally recovered from last week.
It all started off fairly well. The weather was improving and we were looking forward to the little man's birthday on the weekend.
Then on Tuesday evening, things started to go south, and not towards the sun, sand and surf. I threw out my neck. I blame cleaning the house, although I suspect the struggling, wriggling 32+ pounds of toddler that I hoist daily may have had something to do with it. He had also upped his resistance to bedtime.
On Wednesday evening, his bedtime rebellion escalated, or rather it elevated. At least he elevated. In fact he elevated far enough to launch himself out of the crib. Sitting under his room, the house shook as the inevitable attraction of gravity brought him back to earth. Head first.
A quick ride in an ambulance later, we found ourselves enjoying the hospitality of the Toronto East General Hospital emergency room, for five hours. The wee man actually enjoyed his hospital stay (particularly the stool races with the other toddler boy inmates), and while it wasn't the way we planned on spending the evening, both mum-mum and dada were relieved when we were discharged with a diagnosis of no more than a bump on the head. Said bump had shrunk dramatically from it's initial tennis-ball proportions to a more manageable goose-egg.
With family arriving on Thursday and Friday, we managed to get the preparations for his party sorted and on Saturday morning we trundled off to the zoo. Mum-mum's party idea was a big hit and tons of his little friends came out to enjoy sandwiches, cupcakes and the polar bear feeding.
Congratulations on turning two, wee man. Let's not hurry to three.