Tuesday, February 26, 2013
Remember that show? Remember when Kirk Cameron wasn't crazy? Those were good times.
Neither here nor there, though. This post is about my kid's legs. And the mystery pains plaguing them. The pains that kept him up half the night last night (according to him; of course, from my perspective he slept all night, so the reality is possibly somewhere in between). He started limping last night--unable to recall any traumatic leg event from earlier in the day which might have caused the pinching pain behind his knee. There was much heavily whispered "Ow"ing at every move; whispered to ensure authenticity, but whispered loudly to ensure maximum attention-garnering, naturally.
So we looked at his legs--compared one knee to the other, examined the back of the knee for any sign of injury, swelling or foul-play. Nada. A perfectly proportioned, unbruised, unscathed knee. Veritable patella perfection, front and back.
We offered ice; he declined. I offered Advil; he declined. The coping mechanism of near-constant complaining and limping prevailed for the rest of the evening. It was fun for the whole family, really.
This morning, he suggested from the warm cocoon of his covers that he stay home; you know, because of the pain. I admit I was tempted, because the warm cocoon of my covers was calling me and it would have been so easy to just crawl back to bed.
But mystery leg pains don't come with fevers, vomiting or copious amounts of green snot, so as a responsible parent, I just couldn't bring myself to give him the day off for "leg pain." Not that I don't believe his leg hurts; I do. But his leg's going to hurt at home just like it would hurt at school and last I checked, leg pain is not one of your more contagious ailments.
On the way to school (which he agreed to with only minor screaming and kvetching after all), I told him I'd make an appointment with our chiropractor for after school. Turns out having a chiropractor for your kid is a super convenient way to cure him of all kinds of issues. I'm a fan of chiropractics in general, but for a child, its like a magical process of fixing every little thing. Whether its placebo or real, I don't care---behavioral problems? Take him to the chiropractor. Leg pain? Take him to the chiropractor. He asked me this morning how his back being out of whack could lead to his knee hurting and we spent the entire drive to school talking about the nervous system and the brain and the spine--he can't wait to get to the chiropractor's today to ask her all it. And he seems to have totally forgotten about his leg pain.
When we got to the school play ground, I asked two of his friends to take good care of him today because his leg hurt and his sweet friend Bella, a fellow 1st grader, showed him a technique of rubbing the skin below her pinky fingers with her thumbs and said "this sometimes helps with growing pains. And sometimes it just makes my fingers tickle." His friend Jack, a 2nd grader, said reassuringly, "I used to get growing pains all the time last year when I was in first grade." Apparently in 2nd grade, the growing pains go on hiatus? And clearly the concept of "growing pains" is not foreign to these kids. Bella later suggest, authoritatively, that Ethan might in fact be going through a "growth snurt." And then I died a little bit from The Cute.
Ethan hopped dramatically down the hall and into the class. I carried his bag for him as an excuse to meet his long-term sub and explain the leg issues--and I kind of felt like an ass asking her to keep an eye on him and sharing his fears that his friends would tease him if he limped, and chuckled and threw out the phrase "growing pains" and "I'm sure he's really fine, but...." Thankfully she looked at me like I was only a *little* crazy, and not the full-on lunatic that I am.
So we'll see how he does today with the growing pains and whatnot. His teacher did tell me that they're taking a "history walk" today (a what?!) so I'm sure I'll hear all about how excruciating that was.
Let's just all hope that these growing pains usher in the age of an Ethan who weighs more than 40lbs, so we can finally get that kid in a regular booster seat. Having to endure the "why are you still in that baby booster seat?" questions from his friends is getting to be a bit much for his ego. Here's to hoping he's in a regular booster by age 7. Bring on the growing pains!