This Boy gave us a bit of a scare on Sunday Night....
Here's the Background:
After a very full afternoon at a birthday party on Saturday, Noah had his partner in crime, T. , over for a sleepover. I thought they might like to choose the menu for dinner, shop for the ingredients, make it, and pretend it was their restaurant we were eating in...
They decided on a very Tropical Menu:
Fruit Wands/ Teriyaki Chicken Wings/Hawaiian-Style Burgers/ and Mango Tango Shakes
We went shopping and then got busy preparing all the goodies...
Yes, they felt it necessary to remove their shirts in order to mix the ground beef...
They even made little menus with directions that stated that if you were 7 years old or younger, or 18 or older, you were only allowed 2 wings - the rest were for 8 & 9 year olds only.
Bedtime that night was 10:30 and things settled down around 11:30 - but they pointed out to me the next morning that they were playing "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader" -totally educational, therefore it doesn't matter that they stayed up so late. It was for the Greater Good.
We started our Sunday morning, with a rousing Do-It-Yourself Church Service. This is Noah and T. getting jiggy with it to "Give Me a J". And then we settled in for a Palm Sunday Service lead by me....
After another full day of running around outside, we got ready to go to my Mom-in-law's birthday party. Noah started complaining about a pain in his stomach. We told him he was fine and thought this was a stall tactic of his (which we've seen before...) since he was overtired from two very long days and an "Are You Smarter Than A Fifth Grader Marathan". He slept for about 20 minutes in the car almost as soon as he got in, but as soon when he woke up he started complaining of the pain. He couldn't move, couldn't talk, we weren't allowed to talk even...and as we were driving he got worse and worse. Keith asked him if we should take him to the hospital, assuming that would quiet him down (really, Noah can be a bit of a drama que-ing) but Noah said YES, we needed to go. He was sweating and shaking and crying out in pain.
Immediately, I'm thinking: He got bit by something when he went on that hike at the birthday party yesterday, he got some kind of food poisoning from mixing up the ground beef, and salmonella from the chicken wings, his appendix burst and he must be passing a kidney stone! But I said to him, "It's okay, sweetie, it's probably just gas". "I just want to die", was his response. To the ER we went.
After we arrived, Keith carried him in (because he "couldn't even move") and we wheeled him in a wheel chair to triage. They gave him a bed and we took off his soaked to the skin clothes and draped him in a hospital blue robe. About a minute and a half later, he's moving.
We get all registered, he's making jokes.
We talk to the doctor, his pain is now minimal.
We wait THREE HOURS for an x-ray - He's full of it -
POOP. Gas. The Boy had a GAS PAIN.
That's my boy!
That's my boy!