A three year-old hits his head. The cops are questioning the mother when we get there. It looks like an accident. The kid just banged his head. He didn’t lose conciousness — he just hurts when he moves his head. His mother has to be six two and well over four hundred pounds — she has a big belly hanging out under her tee-shirt. She wears yellow fuzzy duck slippers. She is cuddling the little boy to her when I come in like he is a tiny baby doll.
When we take him in the ambulance, she starts singing to him as tears flow down her cheeks. “You are my sunshine, my only sunshine (sob) you make me happy when times are grey (sob sob) You never know dear how much I love you, don’t take my sunshine away. (sob) Sing it with me now little one… You are my sunshine…”
Her voice is high and scratchy. I am worried if she falls forward, she is going to crush the little boy. He looks very scared, laying all bundled up on the backboard holding his teddy bear.
“Who does your mommy love most in the world?”
“Me,” he says, and smiles.
“Who’s my daddy?” she asks him.
“Me,” he says in a soft quiet voice.
“That’s right,” she says. “You will always be my little daddy.”