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Grace Says “Hi, Daddy… it’s me.”

Grace says...

Last night, my daughter left me her very first voicemail. She is three years old, almost four (in May), and she’s definitely spoken on my VM in the past, but it’s usually… “Ohhhh… daddy’s not there mommy,” as she pulls the phone away and hangs up. Last night, however, the concept of talking into a telephonic device, waiting for a beep, then delivering a “message” all fell into place. Here is the transcript:

“Daddy? Hi, Daddy its me, um… I’m having a nice day and… Rosie fell down, and… I can’t wait to see you and… what’s, um… think… thing… uh…” [CLICK]

Grace Says “Dey Is, Poobear.”

Grace Says...

*Translation: “Oh look, it’s Winnie the Pooh!”*

Grace Says “No Doctor. No.”

Grace Says...

Dear Work,

Today was a big day for our daughter Grace; it was the day we decided to upgrade her from a crib to a daybed. It was easy, just remove a front rail and replace it with a single crossbar. Nothing to it. Shortly after converting the bed, we brought her into her room and she jumped right up and got “cozy”. She loved it at once.

Later in the afternoon it was nap time, and we tucked her in with her favorite blanket and mommy’s pillow (you know, because she’s a big girl now).

Fifiteen minutes later, as Erin and I were eating lunch in the dining room directly below Grace’s room, we heard a THUD. We were prepared for the possibility of Grace falling from her bed a few times before getting used to it, of course, but didn’t expect it so soon.

We rushed upstairs to find our two year old bawling on the floor, on her knees, with mommy’s pillow entirely over her head. She had somehow managed to get herself caught between the pillow and the slipcase. No suffocation, mind you, plenty air thru the cotton.

We picked her up and did our normal consoling, the same as we do when she falls on the pavement or bumps her head on a table. But this time was different. This time she wouldn’t hug us like normal. This time she only held onto us with her left arm, keeping her right arm tucked against her little ribcage.

We didn’t like that, so we tested her out to see if anything could get her to loosen up after her understandably traumatic fall. A popsicle maybe? Nope. A walk outside on the grass, perhaps, one of her favorite things? Nope. Nothing was working, she kept nursing that right arm, and crying in surges whenever it was affected.

Erin drove Grace to the hopsital, where she was admitted into the ER and x-rayed, all the while hysterical and in pain. After a couple of hours the results were back. The x-ray had confirmed the doctor’s suspicion:

Grace had fractured her collar bone clean through.

She needed immediate anti-inflammatory medicine along with pain relief. Six hours, a makeshift sling (they don’t make proper slings for two-year-olds), a steady supply of Children’s Motrin and a prescription for Tylenol 3 later, Grace is back in her bed, asleep, for now.

Yes, I turned her bed back into a crib shortly after the incident. Yes, I am harboring a high amount of guilt at the decision to upgrade our daughter’s sleeping situation. And yes, I’d like to work from home tomorrow and be with my daughter in her time of stress and pain.

I hope you understand, as I hate to have to miss coming into work. Please call or write if there is any need for me to be present. I will try and work it out.

Thank you for understanding,


UPDATE: We visited the orthopedic doctor today, who gave us an XS sling for her arm, which she doesn’t want to wear but we try and keep it on. She’s doing well today, all things considered. A little hazy from the medicine, but her normal self, with little regard for the golf ball sized red lump on her collar. Doctor things three weeks and she’s back to normal, four days before the pain subsides. Here’s to hoping.