"Mommy! Dabe pulled my hair! Ish not fair! Can I hit him?"

"Sure, Scott...I mean, no, you can't hit him!"

"But, Mommy... He's alwaysh doing that and you nebber lemme hit him back. Ish not fair!"

Darlana closed her eyes. "If I didn't see it, it didn't happen."

Scott looked up at her for a moment, his eyes wide. "Mommy... Will you keep your eyes thut for about two minutes?"

Cracking one open to give her son a look, she shook her head. "No."

Scott pushed his bottom lip out and jutted his jaw forward making a rather pathetic attempt at a pout. After his mother didn't open her eyes for a moment, Scott turned and ran over to Dave and punched him in the shoulder. "Ha! There you go, you hair-puller!"

Then, he heard his mother's voice. "Scott! I saw that!"

He gaped. How could she have possibly seen that? "Mommy, I didn't do anyshing!"

"Go to your room, Scott."

"Mommy!" he whined.

Dave stuck his tongue out at Scott and poked him in the shoulder with one finger. "Ha, yourself, Scott!"

"Dave, you go to your room too," She commanded, pointing a finger at the stairwell.

"But I didn't do anything, Mommy!" Dave gave a perfect pout.

Darlana sighed. "Oh, all right. You can stay out here. But, you can't go on the slide anymore today."

Scott watched the scene with his lip trembling. How could it always work for Dave, but it never worked for him?

"Scott, were you waiting for an invitation? Go!"

Pouting, he began to climb the staircase ruefully.

Scott watched his feet climb the steps, not listening to anything that was going on. So, when Clint and Bob came running around the corner and down the stairs, they both hit Scott and sent him flying down the stairs in a backward roll. They both winced every time a bony part of Scott's body hit a step, which was often.

Darlana watched in horror as her eldest came tumbling back down the staircase she had just sent him up. "Baby!" she shrieked, running to grab him as he hit the bottom.

But, she wasn't fast enough. Scott hit the ground floor jarringly and immediately began to scream. "Mommy! It hurts!"

Darlana looked over him for a moment, trying to discern what was wrong. She grabbed his shoulders to sit him up and Scott let loose with an ear-piercing shriek. Darlana gulped when she saw through Scott's thin t-shirt that his shoulder was all but hanging out of joint. "Oh, baby... We've got to get you to the hospital."

Clint and Bob stood on the stairs, their eyes wide. "Mommy, we didn't see him," Bob whispered.

"I know, Bobby. Listen, I want you three to go put your jackets on. We're going to go see the Doctor with Scott, all right?"

The triplets nodded in unison and ran off to grab their jackets. Darlana pressed her hands to her face and rubbed her eyes for a moment, then stroked Scott's hair softly as he whimpered in pain. "Scott, darling, it's going to hurt when I pick you up, but I want you to be strong and brave and tough it out. Can you do that?"

Scott looked up at his mother, his eyes welling up with tears. "Yesh, Mommy."

Sliding one hand behind his knees, and the other cupping his shoulders as gently as she knew how, Darlana scooped him up into her arms, almost wanting to cry for him when he bit down on his lip, determined to be brave.

The triplets came running back into the room and crowded around Darlana. Dave, who hadn't actually seen Scott fall down the stairs, asked, "What happened to Scott and how come he's not wearing his jacket?"

"Scott fell." Clint explained. "A long way, and he got an ouch on his arm so he can't put his jacket on."

Dave pondered the explanation for a moment, then smiled as Darlana began to walk out of the room toward the garage, the triplets following. "Oh, okay. So, we're all going to the doctor and she'll give us peppermints and lollies?"

Darlana shook her head. "I don't know if it's that kind of Doctor, Dave."

Dave wrinkled his nose. "Then, can we stop on the way and get candy? Or ice cream?"

Darlana sighed when she reached the door leading out to the garage. "One of you boys... Open the door. Dave, no. Your brother is hurt. But, maybe on the way back if Scott is feeling better."

Dave nodded as he grasped the door handle and turned it, watching Scott's tearstained face as she turned back. "Clint, can you go get Mommy her purse and her keys?"

Clint nodded and ran off. Bob looked expectantly at Darlana. Flustered, she stepped into the garage and stood by the front passenger door. "Bob?"

Bob ran forward and opened the door, his eyes wide and puppy-dog sad.

Darlana placed Scott in the seat and buckled him as gently as she could, being careful not to let the belt hit him in the shoulder. Shutting the door she sighed and leaned against it for a moment.

"Mommy?" Bob whispered.

"Yes baby?"

"I hope Scott gets better."

Darlana smiled at Bob, then started as Clint ran into the garage, slamming the door behind him. Darlana grabbed her purse and keys and got into the car, the triplets following her example.

Adjusting the rearview mirror, she did a quick once-over to make sure that everyone was buckled in, before backing out and beginning the twenty minute trek to the hospital, Scott's sniffles echoing in her ears.

Darlana was headed down the final stretch of road to the hospital when the light ahead of her turned red abruptly. Biting her lip, Darlana slammed on the brakes. Scott cried out and started sobbing. Darlana clenched her fists. "I'm sorry, baby. We're almost there."

Upon reaching the hospital, Darlana parked in the nearest space that wasn't handicapped, not wanting to add a towed vehicle to today's list of disasters.

Grabbing her keys and throwing them in her purse, she all but jumped from the car and ran around to the other wide, throwing open Scott's door and gently unbuckling his seat belt. "C'mon, guys, out of the car."

Bob pushed the door open, and the triplets tumbled out of the car, rallying around their mother's legs as she lifted Scott again and began the slow processional into the hospital.

Scott was still sniffling and sobbing as they made their way into the emergency room. Darlana walked up to the main counter and coughed, trying to alert the nurse of her presence.

The young woman turned and immediately raised a hand to her mouth. "Oh, you poor thing!"

"He had an accident," Clint informed her, from where he was clutching Darlana's shirt.

Scrambling around, the nurse found the forms that she had to give Darlana and held them out with a pen. Then she stopped herself and came out from behind the counter. "Tell you what, we're not busy right now, never are on Tuesday evenings, so I'll just walk you back to an empty room and you can fill these out back there."

Darlana smiled gratefully at the nurse, who gave Scott a wink and a grin as she led them down the corrisor, which smelled strongly of antiseptic, before directing them into a small room. Darlana promptly lay Scott gently on the bed, kissing his forehead and brushing his hair back. "You're gonna feel all right again soon, baby. I promise."

The nurse smiled. "I'll have a doctor with you in a sec, if you wouldn't mind working on those forms."

Darlana nodded and smiled. "Thank you."

The triplets huddled together in one corner of the room, looking bored. Then, Clint saw a container of what looked like popsicle sticks and reached for it. It was just beyond his reach, so he jumped for it and a moment later was sitting in a pile of "popsicle sticks" with a bump on his head from where the container had hit.

Darlana looked up from where she had just been sitting down with the forms and a pen. "Clint Thomas Jo..." she began.

"Oh, don't worry about that." The nurse smiled. "Plenty more where those came from. Tell you what, why don't you pick them all up, and I'll let you take them home to make a house out of them?"

Clint looked embarrassed for a moment, but smiled at the nurse and quickly gathered up the fallen sticks. Scott tried to sit up to see what was going on, but let himself fall back onto the paper-covered table with a defeated moan and tiny yelp of pain. The nurse walked over to him and stroked his hair. "I don't think you want to try that just yet, buddy. So, what's your name? I'm Janet."

"Shcott." His lower lip trembled.

"You must have been pretty brave, Scott, to get all the way here by yourself." She smiled. "How old are you?"

"Five."

She gasped, pressing her hands to her face in a melodramatic gesture. "No! I thought you were at least seven!"

Scott giggled. "Naw."

A grin spread across Janet's face. She looked over at Darlana and then at the triplets. She turned back to Scott and asked, "Are those guys your brothers?"

Scott sniffled and nodded. "Yup. They're triblets. And Bob and Clint are identional. Dave is fraternizal."

Janet turned her head to look at the three little boys, who were by now fervently picking up the "popsicle sticks" from the floor. "And you're the big brother?"

Scott nodded, solemnly. "But, I don't like Dave much. He's the littlest."

She frowned at Scott. "And why don't you like him?"

Scott wrinkled his nose. "Well, he doesn't like getting dirty and he's always pulling my hair and he talks in his sleep."

As if to prove his point, Dave emitted a high pitched squeal and backed away from Clint, who was taunting him with a grime-covered piece of candy he had found in his pocket. Janet resisted the urge to laugh. "But he's your brother, so you still love him, right?"

Scott nodded. "Just a 'cause I don't like him, doesn't mean I don't love him."

"Well, that's sweet. So, Scott, what did you do to your shoulder?"

"Huh? Oh. I forgot that it hurt. I wath going up the stairs and the twins ran around the corner and they bumped into me and I fell down all the theps."

"Were you holding onto the railing?"

"Um...a little?"

Janet just smiled. "Well, the doctor is going to be in here soon. From the looks of things, you got your shoulder out of joint. So, he's going to have to put it back in. It's going to hurt, but after that, you'll get some medicine that you have to take with ice cream that will take all the pain away and it might make you a little sleepy. Does that sound good to you?"

Scott chewed on his lips in concentration. "How much will it hurt?"

Janet looked at him closely. "Hmm... I don't know. Are you tough?"

Scott puffed out his chest as much as he could without causing himself pain. "The toughesht!"

Janet nodded approvingly. "Then, it's going to feel like a little pinch, just like the shot they're going to give you."

Scott's eyes widened and he whimpered. "Shot?"

"Oh, it's for the pain until they can get you the medicine. It'll numb your arm so it won't feel like putting it out of joint all over again."

Scott nodded, a little unsuredly. Just then, the door burst open and a tall figure in a white coat strode in, carrying a bag that Scott was positive held lots of scary pointy things.

Janet smiled at the man. "Hello, Dr. Goose. This is Scott."

Scott looked up at the man, who had a warm smile, and giggled. "Your name is really Dr. Goose?"

"The one and only." He chuckled, pulling out the rolling chair that Bob and Clint had been eyeing enviously for the past five minutes. "What seems to be the problem, Scott?"

Scott pointed to his shoulder carefully. "I fell down the stairs and my arm fell out."

The doctor's eyes sparkled as Darlana buried her face in her hands, laughing. "That sounds pretty serious, buddy. It's a good thing your mom got you here so quickly. Do you have your arm with you, or did you leave it at home?"

Scott smiled. "I saved it. It's still in my shirt, inside my skin."

Dr. Goose nodded thoughfully. "I guess that's a pretty good place for it. Sort of like buckets for bullfrogs."

Scott nodded, a big grin on his face. "Yup! Or a box of dirt for worms."

Chuckling, the doctor began rolling Scott's sleeve up, careful not to jarr him too much. He motioned Janet over to stand by his side, and she was careful to keep the syringe hidden behind her back. "Scott, why don't you look over there for a minute and tell me what you see in that picture?"

Scott turned to look, "I shee clowns, and a tent, and hey! It's a circus!"

"It sure is." The doctor smiled. "You can look back."

"Why'd I have to look over there, anyway?"

"We just had to give you a little shot."

"You did?"

The doctor smiled and put a Scooby-Doo bandage on Scott's arm. "Now, we're going to wait a few minutes for that to numb you up and then we're going to pop that shoulder back into place. Have you ever pulled a Barbie doll's arm out?"

Scott nodded. "That's the only fun thing you can do with those dolls. Pull off their heads and arms and legs and throw them at girls."

The doctor laughed again. "Right. Well, this is going to be like putting Barbie's arm back in place, only it's going to be easier 'cause you're tougher than Barbie, right?"

"Infinity times tougher than Barbie!" Scott grinned. "Hey, my arm's falling asleep!"

Janet smiled and smoothed Scott's hair back. "You bet. It's supposed to do that. Don't you get hurt a lot less when you're asleep?"

Scott squinted at her. "Yeah. So?"

She smiled even more. "So, if your arm is asleep, it'll hurt less."

Scott grinned. "That makes sense. You're smart, Janet."

"Thanks, Scott. How does it feel now?"

He giggled. "Like there's nothing there." The giggle faded and his face looked worried for a moment, until he looked down to check and reassured himself that it was, in fact, still intact.

Dr. Goose was busy rolling up Scott's sleeve again. Janet held it in place and continued making small talk with Scott about the circus picture and his brothers and candy and ice cream. Scott was busy describing to Janet how to fry ants with a pair of glasses, so Dr. Goose gently grasped Scott's shoulder and the top of his arm and pulled them apart and then gently pushed them back in place.

"Ah!"

Patting Scott's shoulder, Dr. Goose smiled. "What was that, Scott?"

"Oh! I was telling Janet what kind of things you could hear ants say if you fried them when they were bigger."

"And let me tell you, Dr. Goose, they say some pretty interesting things." Janet winked at the doctor, who smiled and stood.

"Hey, aren't you gonna fix my arm?" Scott asked, seemingly perturbed.

"You mean you didn't notice?" The doctor looked shocked. "You must really have been tough then. We didn't think you were going to make it, Scott."

Scott smiled. "Yup. I'm tough."

Janet helped Scott sit up and get off of the table. "All right, Scott. Looks like you can go now."

Scott pushed his bottom lip and jaw out again, attempting his pout. "I don't wanna go."

Dave walked over and tapped Scott on his good shoulder. "Hey, Scott? If you don't put your lip out so far, it works better."

Scott attempted this, and repeated his statement. His mother had just finished signing her name to the last form. "Scotty," She smiled. "I thought you wanted that ice cream on the way home?"

"Oh yeah!" He paused. "I want Janet to come for ice cream, too."

Janet kneeled down and poked Scott in the stomach. "Sorry, buddy. But, I've got work to do here. I need to make sure that everybody else here gets better, just like you. Okay?"

Scott gave Janet a one-armed hug. "Okay. But, every time you eat ice cream or see an ant, remember me?"

"Sure thing."

Dr. Goose ripped a sheet of paper off his pad and handed it to Darlana. "Here's a prescription for the pain medicine. He'll be sore for a few days, but I'm pretty sure he'll bounce back quickly."

As if to prove his point, Scott swaggered over to his brothers in order that he might show off his band-aid, and admire Clint's popsicle sticks.

Darlana thanked Janet and Dr. Goose and they were off.

Scott bounded along merrily as they reached the car, chattering happily away to his mother as she strapped him in, and kept up the constant flow of words as they began the journey to the nearest Baskin Robbins.

The next day Scott was happily running around outside with his brothers, even being nice to Dave because he had taught him how to pout better. That was the only way he'd gotten to take his medicine with ice cream the night before. The perfect pout and he had a chocolate sundae. His shoulder was quite bruised, as were his knees and hips and other parts that had hit during his fall, but he was okay.

Scott caught the wiffle ball that Clint had lobbed at his head with ease in his uninjured hand. Smiling, he took aim at the popsicle stick house that had begun to be erected on the picnic table. Now that he had the pout mastered, no one could pin this on him. No one at all.

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