Did I Do That?

Ezra and Elliott love to run around the house, chasing one other. It's so much fun to hear their squeals of complete happiness as they see each other and then run away. The past month, we have enjoyed the peace of mind that the layout of the condominium provides. We can shut all of the bedroom doors and allow the boys to roam freely without worry of them going up or down stairs and opening cabinets. It's lifted a burden of worry from my shoulders, and I can relax knowing that they are safe while I cook in the kitchen.

And then that peace of mind was ruined when Ezra and Elliott learned how to open the doors last week. Ezra stands on his tippy toes and pulls the handle down on the door. Elliott then comes to his aid and pushes the door open once the mechanism is released. It's a real problem.

This morning, I watched the pair of them open up their bedroom door and resumed cleaning the kitchen. I knew there wasn't anything for them to get into, so I worried about them playing unsupervised. I then heard Ezra slam the door and had visions of tiny little fingers getting caught. I opened the door and went to pick up Ezra, who is the definitive door slammer. He squirmed out of my reach and immediately ran back to the door and shoved it shut.

Elliott instantly started screaming. His left hand was caught where the door and the hinge connect. I immediately pulled the door open, scooped him up, and tried to assess the damage as he screamed. Ezra, seeing his brother in pain, threw himself on the ground and screamed as well.

I could immediately tell that the tip of his pinky finger was broken. The knuckle on his ring finger was bruised and bleeding, but the finger wasn't broken. My sister broke my finger (twice) by slamming it inside of a car door, so I know it could have been worse. However, in the moment, it was pretty stressful. My adrenaline was pumping, and I felt like my heart was going to come out of my chest. Fortunately, Elliott calmed down and the swelling went down pretty quickly.

After some pain meds and a little bandage (essentially taping the pinky to his other finger), Elliott was a happier camper. The finger is less bruised looking, although it is still noticeably red and swollen.

Meanwhile, Ezra seemed to know he was guilty of something and skulked around the house, looking pitiful. Poor little guy! It was totally an accident, of course.

We survived our first injury. Thank goodness. I hope there aren't too many more in the future!