So, there we were last Wednesday morning, merrily tucking into our Cheerios, daddy en route to day 2 of his ‘Important New Job’ when Sam had a fall and thirty minutes later I’m in A&E.
I won’t go into detail but suffice to say; child in booster seat on kitchen chair, child pushes against kitchen table, chair and child fall backwards, almighty bang, lots of tears, anxious mother, mad dash to hospital.
Why is it that things like this only happen when I’m on my own, the doctors aren’t open, I’m still in my PJs, have no credit on my phone and very little petrol in the car?
I don’t remember leaving the house. I don’t think I even locked the door. I wouldn’t say I was in a blind panic, but I was definitely in a visually impaired one. Simple things like putting on shoes seemed to take f-o-r-e-v-e-r. I couldn’t find my car keys, phone or purse (which were all in my hands already) and only vaguely knew where the hospital was. Nevertheless, we got there.
Of course, by the time I found reception, Sam looked much better. When we were called to see the doctor he was running around the waiting room. Maybe I had over-reacted but all the books I’ve ever read about bangs to heads and lots of maternal instinct told me that I needed medical experts to confirm that he was OK.
Thankfully, they did and less than an hour after leaving the house like a complete mad woman, we were back home calming down with a large coffee and the Teletubbies.
There are three outcomes from this incident; 1) I’m going to do a first aid course. 2) I’m adding crisis-management skills to my CV. 3) My nemesis, the highchair, has been re-instated at the head of the kitchen table - just when I thought I’d seen the last of it – grrrrrrrrrr.
Of course, non of this would have happened if the ducks hadn’t stolen my engagement ring – sob, sob.