When I was fourteen I hurt my toe at the swimming pool. When I returned home with an exaggerated limp, feeling sorry for myself my mum was not convinced that my injury was particularly serious. In fact the next day when I made mutterings about needing to go to the hospital she told me if I wanted to go I would have to get myself there.
So I hobbled to the bus stop, took the bus to the hospital, discovered I had in fact broken my toe and caught the bus home. At the time I felt positively indignant about my mums lack of sympathy, though she was sympathetic once I had my injury confirmed. I swore I would never do that to my child. I did not consider the fact that I was a clumsy child and my mum had spent approximately five years of my childhood waiting in A & E for me to be x-rayed. She was probably a little hardened to my injuries by this point.
My children, like me, are not great with pain. So I myself may have become a little hardened to their accidental bumps and bruises. This is why I was slightly sceptical when this morning Super Kid announced he couldn’t walk and needed carrying. Apparently he had woken with his leg like this. Now its not that I don’t care but, facing six weeks of parenting three under six without the respite of school or preschool, I was keen for Super Kid to attend the last day of school today.
I was willing to make the trip to the doctors if it was warranted but I wasn’t sure it was. So I dosed him up on Calpol, put him in his sisters buggy, pushed him to school and sort of tipped him out into the classroom. The teacher looked a little puzzled but when I explained the situation she found him a chair and some pens and I left him in her care. As I left I felt a pang of guilt that possibly I was being a terrible mother and I should rush back, grab my child and stroke his leg better or some such loving motherly action. However I had Robo Boy and Wonder Girl and stuff to do , so I didn’t. I did check my phone regularly should the school ring, so I’m not a social services case just yet.
Anyway the day went past, and when I went to pick Super Kid up he skipped out of the classroom, debilitating leg injury all but forgotten. When I enquired about his injury he replied “it got a lot better during outdoor playtime”. What can I say, obviously the combination of fresh air and the botanical sandpit must have worked wonders !
*Super Kid is 5, Robo Boy is 3 and Wonder Girl is 14 months.
Little tike!! I was expecting this to end with a sad tale of woe when it was discovered that he had injured it in some way!! Glad that fresh air works so well – i think footballers could learn a thing or two from this and ditch the sponge x
Yes footballers all appear to be complete wusses don’t they. You never see cricketers making such a big fuss.
LMAO I thought you were going to reveal that he had leprosy or he’d broken all his leg bones or summink – what a little monkey! Mind you, I suffered from headaches as a child and sometimes – only sometimes – they would conveniently manifest themselves when I had a dentists’ appointment or similar. Yeah, my mum got wise to that one quite quickly.
Yes we have all done it. Feels funny to be the mum in this scenario though.