Call me paranoid, but I’m fairly certain the new ‘security cams in the play areas, videos available to parents in special circumstances’ procedure at our nursery is down to my child. And I have to say, it’s a pretty good idea on their part.
The boy is, without doubt, a personal injury liability.
The latest call came in on Monday. It was late in the afternoon, and we had almost survived another day without issue, when the nursery’s name flashed up on my phone, and the following two thoughts flashed through my mind:
1/ CRAP, what time is it? Have we forgotten him?? I AM THE WORST MOTHER IN THE WORLD!!!!!!! (It was an hour and a half before pick up, be cool Charlotte)
2/ Oh Jesus, what is it this time?
I took the call.
“Hello, is this Rory’s mum?”
“Just a courtesy call to say Rory has had a fall”
“Unfortunately he’s got a cut above his eye”
“It’s in the same place as last time… But a bit worse. We’d strongly recommend you take him to see a doctor.”
“Don’t worry, he was laughing within minutes of it happening. But we do think he might need stitches… ”
And so it began.
We spent the next few hours ringing around doctors, minor injury units, A&E, all while my husband drove from place to place to try and figure out why no-one was answering their phones, and if any walk-in centres were still accepting patients in this time of Corona. Finally, at around 7:30pm, our little boy was pinned to a table by a doctor and two nurses as he thrashed his head from side to side, and they tried to glue his cut shut. The endeavour was unsuccessful, eventually resulting in a “you know what, it’ll heal fine by itself, let’s just leave it for now.”
And so they came home. Little man went to bed 2 hours late. We ate fish and chips. And the cut began its healing process.
No harm done, in the grand scheme of things. Aside from a surprisingly jolly little boy that just so happened to look like he’d gone ten rounds with Mike Tyson, we remained unscathed.
But this is not the first call of this type we have had. We have had two black eyes so far. Bumped heads. Coronavirus scares. At home he recently dropped a plate on his toe (he was helping unload the dishwasher, he’s a very hands-on little thing) resulting in a blackened nail. And, just this afternoon, he launched himself off the sofa with no prior warning, narrowly missing a tooth shattering collision with the fireplace as I threw my pregnant self in his path.
They say it’s just what boys are like. They say it’s just something we’ll have to get used to. They say it’s a typical toddler trait.
But my poor nerves, I’m not sure they can take it.
I’m not even allowed to drink 🍷🙅😩🤰
In other news: Lockdown 3.0 has arrived here in the UK, along with black ice on all the roads and pavements, keeping us trapped. It could be worse, though, on a personal level. The park is still open and so is nursery, so tinker gets to see friendly faces other than our own/have a bit of normality, which is all that really matters to us as a family. Small blessings // The little gentleman in utero has been kicking up a storm, and I’m loving feeling his movements. With the placenta in a different place to last time, it’s a whole new sensation, and I am here for it // I can’t stop eating // And I’ve realised we are in no way prepared for this baby (actually, husband pointed it out yesterday morning). By this point in pregnancy with big R, we had bought most of what we needed, I was hypnobirthing, we had names. This time? We’ve done nothing. Literally nothing // Today, Rory saw me rubbing my bare belly in a bonding moment with baby. He walked over, blew a raspberry on my naked tum, pulled my top down to cover my bump, and gave me a withering look that said ‘now is not the time, mother’ before walking away. Consider me told // And our Christmas tree is still up. Purely because we’re lazy. Don’t @ me.