Friday, May 14, 2010
Its All Fun and Games Until You Have to Visit First Aid
These are pictures of the children on our way to the game. Chris and I felt like we were getting an F in parenting because the girls are 8 years old and had never been to a baseball game before. So when the opportunity came to go with a group of people from my school to the Gwinnett (not Atlanta) Braves game, we jumped on it. For some reason (which I really have no idea what it was) I thought bringing Q would also be a good idea. Um, yeah, it wasn't.
It took us about 45 minutes to get there, park and find our seats. And when we found them Q looked at us like, "What? You want me to sit? I just rode peacefully for 45 minutes in the car. Its time to run." He's nonverbal, so he said all of this through eye contact and grunting, but we understood.
Chris took his turn first and walked him from one end of the stadium to the other and back again. They returned and Q still wasn't having it, so I took a turn. The first two minutes and 18 seconds into my turn was great! We ran in the grassy area. We danced. It was excellent. And then he took off running on the concrete, and I had to take off after him. Music was playing, so thankfully he stopped to dance some more and I caught up to him. But then he realized I was standing next to him, let out a wild whoop and went to take off again. Only he caught the toe of his shoe on the concrete and in slow motion he fell...onto his face...on the concrete. He couldn't break his fall with his hands because he was holding a snack pack of cookies. And to make the whole situation even better, a guy who worked at the stadium was directly behind us and immediately whisked us away to the first aid station.
Q busted his lip. It bled. It bled quite a bit. But if you know Quinn, then you know that he has an unbelievable threshold for pain and a little bit of blood really doesn't slow him down. He continue eating his cookies while we waited for a paramedic. He made friends with the clerk at the station. He scored a free Webkinz. We were discharged, after I signed paperwork stating that they offered to take us to the hospital and I declined, and headed back to our seats. I relayed the story to Chris and the girls. The girls' response...."Did you get a Webkinz for us?" Chris's reply..."When you fall, bust open your lip and produce 3 tablespoons of blood, then you too can get a Webkinz." And so, our hour was up and we left. I have no idea what inning it was or if we were winning. But, we can now say that our children have attended a baseball game. I have checked it off the list.
Labels: day in the life, parenting, Quinn
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At least it wasn't in my driveway.
Well, at least you didn't end up at the hospital. Thank goodness for Quinn's pain tolerance. He must get that from his Pop Pop. :) Glad you all made it home alive!
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