Ironman

Our sick, sick baby. -rolls eyes-

Patrick, having had his dream of being Rocket Man dashed upon the permanent removal of his helmet,* has now decided to become Ironman... one small, metal object at a time.

In other words, he ate a safety pin.

So, we ended up in Urgent Care last night (despite my inclination to just stay home and wait it out), leaving our cooked dinner on the stove, sending texts to our guests to cancel our get-together, and toting along our perfectly happy and amiable 10-month-old who had no idea that anything could possibly be wrong. As far as he was concerned, the doctor's waiting room is a place where lots of smiling nurses come out and coo over him. I think he's making plans to swallow another safety pin in the near future.

Thank goodness for Urgent Care (as opposed to going to ER), as we were in and out in about two hours. Not bad for an after-hours visit to the doctor.

As suspected, they x-rayed Patrick, confirmed that the safety pin was indeed in there, and sent us home with instructions to just wait it out. So, now I get to go "diaper diving" in search of said safety pin over the next couple of days. Whee.


*Yes, the helmet's off for good. And I'm SO grateful to have my baby boy back in a cuddle-able state again. Patrick didn't really seem to notice one way or the other, except when he hits his head on things and now it hurts. ;)