So the littliest one cannot stand up this morning. Not at all. Can't put weight on his left leg. I ask him what happened, since he was fine yesterday and has been in a crib all night. He says, "I bwoke my weg." "You broke your leg?" I ask. "Yep. It bwoken. It baaaad. I go doctor and get a sucker. It dat bad."
Obviously, he hasn't fallen out of bed and Beaux was within ear shot, so I know he wasn't in there messing w/ him. So I start quizzing him.
"Did you get it hung in the rails of your crib?"
"Yep. De duck cage got me." (He calls his crib filled w/ ducks his 'duck cage' which is entirely too cute...until you're in the grocery store with little old ladies surrounding you and he spouts out that he 'sweeps in a duck cage'. Ironically, this comes out clear as a bell much like him calling himself 'Super Poosey'. -you'll have to sound that one out for yourself.)
In disbelief I say, "Did you fall out of bed?" -knowing he didn't.
"Yep. I fewell and bwoke it. Fewell wite out of my duck cage."
"Was it an old war wound? Is that he knee you injured jumping horses?"
"Yep. De horsey got me."
Okay, now I know two things. One, you can never trust this one to tell you the truth. Two, he honestly has no clue what happened to his 'weg'. So I call the doctor.
Thorough inspection turns out that it isn't his knee after all, but inflammation in the hip joint. Who knew?! And the treatment for such a mallady in this modern age of medicine.... Motrin. Yes, Motrin. That's it.
Oh, and apparently a $20 copay will ease the pain as well.