The weather has been terrific here in Seattle. That doesn't mean less rain. It means day after day of blue skies, sun, and kids running around playing. That includes my 12-year-old, Eitan, a boy fueled by testosterone.

Eitan, who my friends called as a little one, "The Humvee Baby" is a tough kid. And he's an active football player, lacrosse player, and Boy Scout. He is made of tough stuff. School, of course, is a variable interest for him. And he has little patience for completely solving math problems, although he has the smarts.

That brings me to this past weekend and a three-day Boy Scout camp out on an island in Puget Sound near Seattle. I was there too along with more than 30 boys and 11 other dads, including two physicians.

On Sunday the boys were playing their annual game on this trip – Jungle Ball. That's where two teams face each other on a grassy field and try to throw a tennis ball and hit the other's goal, a plastic cooler. It is a very "spirited" game and Eitan was "into it, " running with the ball, looking to pass, when he, a 6th grader, got broadsided and flattened by a 9th grader running full tilt.

Eitan was lying there stunned for a few seconds, then got up and was ready to play again. But within a couple of minutes was sitting in my tent, upset, then he vomited, and eventually fell asleep.

Concussion? The two doctor friends – one of them a neurologist – were watching carefully. And in a short while I woke Eitan. He was coherent, responsive, but tired. From the hit? Or from little sleep on the campout the night before.

Eitan sleep for two hours, ate a full meal, and was his normal self with no complaints for the rest of the weekend. Did he need to be evaluated by his doc at home? I was wondering. As you may know, we just did a program on the new Zack Lystedt Law Zack Lystedt Law in Washington State which makes it illegal for a kid to go back into an organized sports game without being cleared by a medical professional. So I had the dangers of a second hit on my mind.

The next day was a school day. Eitan got up and then felt nauseous and too tired to go to school. Was it his first class – math? A test? A bully at school? Or was it the effects of the hit? Even the low level virus going around the school? I took the conservative path and let him stay in bed for a while. By 11:30 Eitan went to school – after the hard classes were over, by the way.

After school Eitan was happy and active, but not rushing to do his homework.

Okay, now comes the really interesting part: I decided to take Eitan to see a doctor at our local pediatric group. His appointment was in the early evening with Dr. Hal Quinn, a father, and a very experienced physician of teenagers and pre-teens. He gave Eitan a full neurologic exam including asking him at the beginning to remember three things: "Bird, pencil, and socks." The exam proceeded. Eitan wasn't strong in one test, and had trouble walking backwards. He said his head still hurt behind his eyes. And he forgot one of the three words when asked at the end of the exam. Hal told Eitan he felt he'd had a "concussive event" and had to lay low. That means no lacrosse game this Friday. Eitan was steaming. He sat there in his sports jersey and was turning red. Hal could see that and explained the dangers and that Eitan would have to come back next week, without symptoms for several days, and get a note to play again. Eitan stormed out.

As we left Eitan said he had lied about not feeling well that morning and lied to the doctor. He said an immediate re-test would show he was fine. I said no to the retest, scolded him sharply for ever, ever lying to a doctor trying to diagnose a problem, and reminding him of the dangers of concussion. At home I showed him photos of kids who had been disabled by second hits, and one story of a boy who had died.

I wrote Eitan's coach, who was in total agreement with the no play plan. But it was a rough night at home.

I am happy to report Eitan got with the program the next day. No squawking, apologies all around, did his homework that he neglected the night before, went to school and math class, and laid low after school. He will be a cheerleader at the game and, hopefully, has learned a lesson as an athlete and as a human being about 1) listening to your body and 2) never, ever lying to your doc.

Learning along the way as a parent, and wishing you and your family the Best of Health!