Ah poor little chap! The sympathy vote
From our visit to England
Little chap attempts to compose himself in the car. The wailing has waned as we make ready for our public appearance. We are in a holding pattern until we can return to civilization. [translation = the holiday flat] Fortunately I had a towel handy, as you do when you go for a beach holiday in the rain. I'm not certain what size of towel it really is? Too big for a hand towel, too small for a bath towel. Whatever size it really is, is unimportant, as it only serves the purpose of covering him from waist to mid calf.
One corner of the towel is very soggy. It is soggy because he has been chewing and biting it for the last twenty minutes. I am uncertain why it should be, that people in great pain should find relief from their pain by biting? I do know that before the days of anesthesia, victims were encouraged to down a pint or two of ale or something stronger, and would have a cloth inserted into their jaws to bite upon when the pain became too much to bare. Was this to protect their teeth? Is there an instinct to clench one's teeth in times of great pain? I can think of childbirth where women were also given similar relief; bear down and bite down. There must be something in it.
I also know that for one of my sons, when he experiences pain, he is apt to bite anything within biting distance. The thing that is usually within biting distance is me, as I rush to assist him with whatever injury he has currently inflicted upon himself. Broadly speaking, stuffing the end of a towel in a six year old's mouth, is an act, likely to be misinterpreted. If the stuffing is accompanied by screaming, indicative of someone being impaled by a 6 foot stake through the heart, a parent's actions fall into an entirely different category altogether.
Having overcome the latest dose of public humiliation and risked the summoning of the Child Protection League, we are now recovering our equilibrium in the car.
The rest of our party are already ensconced in the pub, where luncheon has been ordered. They await our presence. Junior assures me that his wounds are such that even the thought of food is enough to move him into a state of stomach churning vomiting. But I also know that he is hungry. If we can just reach a state of relative calm, I am confident that consumption can be achieved and malnutrition warded off for another 24 hours.
The wet corner of the towel is a source of distress but the rest of his bodily condition is of greater distress. We practice our breathing and gird our loins as we step out of the car. I hold the towel around his personage at the back. [translation = the lady in waiting holding the train] He hobbles towards the door, a cross between John Wayne, Long John Silver and a ballerina on tippy toes.
We are observed by a mother putting her baby into the car and assisting her elderly parents to do likewise. She smiles at me, a warm smile, “oh dear, little bit of an accident? Never mind, you'll be right as rain soon.” She shuts her car door and gives us a little wave. My son mutters disconsolately, “not little accident, BIG accident.” I mutter soothing words as we slowly make progress towards the door. He is a little large at six and a half to be having that kind of an accident, but on this occasion, it is not that kind of an accident. It is an entirely different kind of accident, the kind of accident that few people on the planet appreciate.
The bar staff watch our slow progress towards the table, but say nothing, the height of discretion. Everyone is very conciliatory towards a young gentleman’s delicate sensibilities. I do not address the situation directly, as this is a perfectly satisfactory state of affairs for all concerned. This mis-understanding elicits the appropriate behaviour from strangers. He sits on his bench and sighs, exhausted. He glances down towards his knee and winces as he bends his leg to seat himself. His eyes widen as he peers beneath the table and the towel. “I can see it! I gonna die! No hospital!” he squalks. [translation = at 50 decibels] I tease the corner of the soggy towel towards the corner of his mouth. He seizes it in his front teeth, worries it like a dog with his eyes tight shut and then chews contentedly.
It would never do for his eyes to have to see the graze on his knee, the pinpricks of blood down his shin that no-one can touch or clean. [translation = and the rapidly forming scab, I hope].
Moral – do not use your imaginary snow board, at high speed in a park that inhabited by foreign birds.
Little known fact – English Pigeons are twice the size of their American cousins.
Even lesser known fact – Superpigeon and snowboards don’t mix.
Addendum – the child and the towel were surgically separated some thirty six hours later, with no long term ill effects for either party.
Addendum to addendum, dumb, dumb!
Patience…….the “answer.”
August 8th, 2007 at 11:49 pm
He carried the towel for 36 hours? What made him eventually give it up?
August 9th, 2007 at 12:23 am
Oh, poor little guy. Sounds like it just wasn’t his day.
And you’re right about the pigeons, especially the wood pigeons. Huge!
August 9th, 2007 at 12:38 am
Great post mcewen, they’re all great but I had a little cry at this one.
Please write a book.
August 9th, 2007 at 1:09 am
Please, please write a book. Your posts are so funny. Do tell us how you managed to separate the poor little guy and his towel. Mind you, he looks dashing in his “sarong”. Hope his knee and shin are better.
August 9th, 2007 at 3:00 am
You also must share how you remain so calm; this ability must diffuse many situations that would otherwise become more protracted. I also hope you are using these posts as the basis for a book.
August 9th, 2007 at 5:09 am
Actually, I think you’re well on the way to having written the book. Now it’s a matter of editing.
We’re getting ready for our Sept. beach trip (I know it is still August…). I’ll remember to pack a “car towel” for accidents…
August 9th, 2007 at 5:19 am
Wow, what an adventure! Thank goodness the towel was there to comfort him. Who knows how he might have reacted to the situation without having it!
August 9th, 2007 at 5:41 am
Can you put on a spray-on bandaid? Yes, they sting, but atleast it’s covered. My eldest sees blood and the world comes to an end. Bandaids are not allowed. We’ve done the “wrap it in a towel” part too.
Chewing must be soothing. The little one has started chewing door handles (he holds onto the handles and chews on the piece that sticks out that goes in the wall to keep it closed). We’re having discussions on that. His hard plastic toys are fine to chew… doors are not. It is considerably less than it was… and the grinding has mostly gone as well.
S.
August 9th, 2007 at 6:52 am
I’ve just gone through a few of your posts and I have to say that your writing is wonderful. I am drawn into your words and am able to lose myself for a moment. In my life these days, that is a true gift. Thank you.
It takes everything I have some days not to tell my 5 year old to JUST BE FREAKING QUIET ALREADY DIDN’T YOU JUST ASK ME A QUESTION 2 NANOSECONDS AGO FOR PETE’S SAKE AND STOP BUGGING YOUR SISTER FOR AT LEAST ONE MINUTE. I want to know the source of your patience too.
August 9th, 2007 at 7:11 am
Poor thing! Him and you that is. How is he after it scabs over?
August 9th, 2007 at 7:35 am
The mouth is often a source of comfort, from the beginning, and I don’t think we lose that. It’s got many nerves. It’s a complex part of the body, source to the interior.
Makes sense to me.
My children are both exceedingly oral still. I think it runs in the family.
But yes, there is also the tendency the grit teeth and so forth when in pain or upset. So you are right, I think.
But more to the point, how is the child, legs, and towel?
Julie
Ravin’ Picture Maven
August 9th, 2007 at 9:26 am
You do have a knack for story-telling. And crisis management :-} Though I suspect you’d prefer less need for the latter.
And on we go, yes? On we go.
August 9th, 2007 at 10:11 am
You are such a great mom! So patient… something I need to work on.
August 9th, 2007 at 10:26 am
I agree with all of those who have praised your patience and writing. And you still have time to post a kind comment to a hot-head like me. Thanks!
August 9th, 2007 at 1:13 pm
Hi! I just stopped by to say thank you for visiting my blog earlier this week. You’re welcome any time.
August 9th, 2007 at 1:23 pm
OK, Maddy, tell us the outcome…how DID you separate boy and towel? Nik, too, is a chewer/mouther…except food. Sigh…Glad to know all worked out ok and he was able to eat, apparently.
August 9th, 2007 at 3:40 pm
I wish a towel would have solved some problems with mine at some point…any point.
August 9th, 2007 at 8:29 pm
What a sweet little boy. I wish I could have given him a hug to comfort him. I hope he’s better today. Hugs to you and him my sweet friend.
August 9th, 2007 at 8:42 pm
days like these are why I end up at the market without brushing my hair!
August 10th, 2007 at 6:25 am
A towel! Where were you last month when we had a blood crisis. Patrick smashed his head into the wall with accompanying blood spurting. I’m trying to tend to his head and he’s freaking out because of the blood drop on his arm. A towel would have worked (and is being filed away for future reference).
August 10th, 2007 at 10:54 pm
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