My Son The Sumo or Why I Need the Chiquita Banana Video

You know how you get that call from school – the one that starts “your child is fine but there has been an accident …”

I got the call at 8:30 AM – what the heck happens at 8:30 AM? Then blah blah blah “spirit week,” blah blah blah “sumo wrestling” – what? SUMO WRESTLING – are you kidding me?

My son split open a 1¼ inch gash above his eye while wearing an inflatable fat suit complete with gigantic diaper.

Oh the horror!

I threw on some clothes, washed my face, called my baby daddy and headed to the ER. When I got there the scene that ensued was straight out of Scrubs.

The gash was impressive. His eyebrow was flapped over his eye. I had a moment of wooziness, but my pallor was nothing compared to that of the baby faced Vice Principal whose unlucky duty it was to accompany my kid to the ER. Did I mention the lawyer per household statistics in my neighborhood? This was clearly damage control.

Damage control over a freak accident in blow up sumo wrestling suits. What are the chances, really, what are the chances of injury with all that padding, and did I mention, helmets. They were wearing helmets.

My son was fine, if a bit pale, but again nothing compared to the vice principal. Son relayed that he was sumo-ing – his first round – with another athletic kid. He charged; they knocked into each other and the other kid fell to the ground. My son was worried – he thought he had knocked him out. Then my son noticed his face was hot. He walked off the mat and the teachers saw that he was covered in blood. A couple of burst blood vessels will do that.

On the way to the ER I had discussed ER doctor versus plastic surgeon stitchery with baby daddy. We decided plastic surgeon, but once in the ER the very dashing, dare I say Coxian, attending suggested otherwise. He said the plastic docs preferred them to do it. Another call to baby daddy and score for ER doc.

He gets the boy ready for stitches. Baby daddy arrives at ER. Son No. 1 arrives at ER. All we needed was booze and a jazz band and it could have been a real party. Son No. 1 makes a philosophical comment on child rearing; ER doc cocks his head and the two of them are off to the races. I can’t keep up. One minute we are talking school and the next I hear the ER doc pose the question “Are bars immoral since the whole point of going to a bar is to get girls drunk and have sex with them?”

Huh WHAT? Son No. 1 said your question smacks of patriarchy and condescension to women. Baby daddy takes Vice Principal into hall to see if the school will pay the $100 dollar co-pay. Inside the room the discussion moves on to more pressing moral issues such as the impact of treating third world children for diarrhea (a leading cause of death) when doing so would astronomically increase their carbon footprint.

Well from there it was only a hop skip and jump to alien conspiracy theory.

Has anyone else had an ER visit like this?

I brought Son No. 2 home and promptly got a migraine. Which is why I need the silly Chiquita Banana Video – mock me if you wish. I am just wondering whether I can get my mom to do it.

Tip of the hat to Knight’s Knacht-Up for the bananarama

By the way – the wound required 28 stitches.


4 Comments (+add yours?)

  1. Becky
    Apr 04, 2008 @ 16:16:46

    I’m not sure if I should laugh or cry.


  2. Carole Cohen
    Apr 04, 2008 @ 17:53:27

    Definitely surreal! There are times like these when you say to yourself ‘self, are you sure you are not on drugs?’

    Glad your son is mostly okay.


  3. pamajama
    Apr 06, 2008 @ 23:44:48

    Wow, son No. 1 is so incredibly entertaining. Why can’t people in my family talk about such interesting things? Glad #2 is okay, although it sounds like it was a pretty bad injury. I think your wooziness was completely understandable. I particularly liked the “lawyer per household stats” and the fact that you called your son’s father “baby daddy.” Very exciting day!


  4. fivehusbands
    Apr 07, 2008 @ 00:29:33

    Pam – he is so smart and so funny and so messed up and so complex – I wish I knew how to make his life, I don’t know, a little easier.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s

%d bloggers like this: