Just Another Ordinary day
I spend an entire day worrying needlessly about the wrong child, but that's parents for you. On her 26th birthday my eldest daughter is still in Mozambique, with limited access to a dodgy internet café. I check my email at regular intervals throughout the day, just in case. I think of parties and try not to think of predators, animal or human. “When we are snack time! When we are snack time! When we are snack time!” he chants. It's a ditty and now a song. It's not even a question, or a statement of intent. This phrase has been cycling around since before breakfast, with it's poor grammar, cartoon voice delivery and may just qualify the most annoying phrase to date.
During our next debacle at the supermarket he relinquishes control of the cart and attaches himself to my forearm. He holds it gently in his mouth, as a dog might carry a bone. The drool slicks down his chin. He makes for an unusual sight as his legs skippety hop at high speed as we gently propel ourselves down the aisle. I betray him. “He's pretending to be a puppy,” I say unnecessarily to the faces that look, some with humour, others without. He releases me for a second to bellow, “I not dog, I boy,” before latching straight back on. I am unnaturally pleased that he didn't tack on the compulsory 'stoopid,' which would be quite justified on this particular occasion. This may not the ideal way to conduct a shopping trip, but at least he is close at hand, or rather arm, and remarkably quiet.
We return to the safety of our own home, our sanctuary, all safe and sound. I scan the emails but there is still nothing from my first born child. I wonder what other dangers she is experiencing. I hope that they are limited to mosquitoes, the West Nile free variety.
By supper time I am at my ordinary low ebb. I check the email again. I wonder if it's yesterday, today or tomorrow for her? I make a note to check the time difference on this ordinary day. It is because it is an ordinary day, that I am not in the least prepared, when she accidentally closes the door on his finger. I fly as I watch his body jangle and jerk like a fish on a hook, and blood spurts back in his face. As I reach the door he does not scream or cry but yelps “help me! Stuck!”
We rush him to the Emergency Room.
Don’t worry, he’s fine. For more successful news in my other life, visit “here.”
August 24th, 2007 at 6:16 am
When Matthew (techinically NT) was 3 he got his finger caught in a heavy door at playgroup (I was chasing Patrick at the time). Full out sedation and 8 stictches (inside and out) later and all was well.
I’m glad your little guy is fine. Did you hear from your daughter?
August 24th, 2007 at 7:29 am
You are such a gifted writer. That image of him jerking around like a fish on a hook was… just wow. Hope the finger heals.
August 24th, 2007 at 8:44 am
Red got his finger caught in a door at church last Sunday… not fun. At least we didn’t have to go to the ER though :S
August 24th, 2007 at 8:57 am
Good lord! Poor everybody!
What is your elder daughter doing in Mozambique?
August 24th, 2007 at 9:04 am
Ah yes! My first born child is in Mozambique teaching Aides Awareness to teachers, so that they in turn can teach their pupils. She works for Non-Profit and spent 6 months learning Portuguese first. She found this much more difficult than learning to speak and write Chinese! Yet another example of why children are so baffling.
August 24th, 2007 at 9:48 am
It is incredible what can happen behind us when we turn for a brief second to look the other way. I’m glad he’s fine!
Julie
Ravin’ Picture Maven
August 24th, 2007 at 10:12 am
Ouch!!!! Glad he’s fine.
Last May the little one put a tiny (less than a quarter inch sticks out) handle from the antique kerosene heater in his face beside his right eye. How???? No idea. One minute everyone was playing in the living room, next minute screaming. We opted for no freezing.. the nurse thought the Dr and I were crazy. But 2 needles, plus the burn of freezing, plus stitches. Or 2 stitches… I laid across him head to toe, the nurse held his head.
Little bugger was over it before we left emerg. Mom took quite a lot longer….
Shall I pour you a glass of wine???
Sheri
August 24th, 2007 at 4:06 pm
Just another day in sunny California, huh? Poor little guy. I hope you heard from your daughter.
Hug.
August 24th, 2007 at 4:20 pm
Hoping that “no news is good news”—-and always more to deal with on the home front! Hope the emergency room was less “eventful”—-we’ve had our share of hours in there (hoping against hope for a not-broken arm after bike spills).
August 24th, 2007 at 6:08 pm
Ouch! Hope the finger is ok. Every day excitement is sometimes just too much.
August 24th, 2007 at 7:36 pm
Yikes. It’s always something, isn’t it? Sigh.