The Dread Pirate Westley and the Emergency Department Crew

At this point, I think we can safely say we’re locals at the Emergency Department. You know it’s bad when the triage nurse greets your toddler with, “Ahoy there, Captain — what brings you in this time?”

This particular adventure began innocently enough: the boys getting dressed up in their Halloween costumes.

Westley was a pirate — naturally.

Nathaniel was Spider-Man — ready to save the world (or at least the backyard).

They looked adorable for about thirty seconds.

Then they let the dogs in.

Now, normally one Rottweiler is enough chaos. But this time Ace was visiting, which meant we had two fifty-kilo furry agents of mayhem in the house.

Within minutes, the scene devolved into what can only be described as The Battle of the Seven Living-Room Seas.

Jackson barking like cannon fire.

Ace parking himself in the middle like an enormous black iceberg.

Spider-Man dragging the pirate across the tiles in his trolley, yelling, “FULL SPEED AHEAD!”

The seas grew wild. The pirate ship flipped. Captain Westley went straight over the stern (that’s the back of the ship, for anyone not fluent in toddler-pirate).

Cue: dramatic wailing, a suspiciously quiet dog, and me grabbing the car keys I’d only just found after the last Great Key Hunt.

Straight to the hospital we went.

Six hours of observation to make sure our fearless captain wasn’t concussed. He wasn’t. But he did manage to turn the ED into his personal comedy club.

The nurses didn’t stand a chance.

Within ten minutes he’d charmed them out of a stethoscope and two pulse monitors, which he promptly hid in a nearby drawer. The poor nurses are probably still looking for them.

I was chasing him in a panic, whisper-yelling “WESTLEY PUT THAT DOWN” through gritted teeth so as not to disturb the other patients — all while he giggled just out of reach, Halloween lollipop in one hand, stolen tongue depressor in the other.

By midnight, the nurses were bringing me cups of tea out of sympathy for my poor nerves. One particularly sweet heart was trying to offer me comfort "It's ok, after all, who hasn't dropped their toddler on their head?" I appreciated the sentiment, but I don't think it had the effect on me they intended!

This wasn’t even our first recent trip.

The last one was for an eye infection (a few stitches gone rogue). Even though his eye looked like something from a bad vampire film, he wasn’t remotely bothered. He busied himself commandeering a portable ECG monitor from the nurses office, announcing, “I’m a doctor!” and trying to check everyone’s heartbeat.

I’m half-expecting to walk in next time and find his photo on the staff board: Employee of the Month — Westley, Age 2.

Apparently, our family legacy is now at the Emergency Department.

I can’t even be mad. It’s a beautiful, infuriating, ridiculous thing watching this little pirate turn every disaster into laughter.

The Dread Pirate Westley:

Conqueror of hospitals.

Breaker of calm minds.

Undefeated master of comic relief.

And if anyone at the ED is reading this… see you next weekend, probably.

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This is Episode 4 of The Westley Chronicles — a weekly series about parenting, work, and trying to hold it all together with dry shampoo, duct tape, and stubborn optimism.

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See you next week,

Trinity 💚