#1 and Dr Charming
Well, it’s been a while but I got The Phone Call again today. Oh you know The Phone Call… the one that goes ‘oh hello English Mum it’s Matron here – nothing to worry about *worrying pause* but I think you better pop down to the school’. Aaarrrggghhhh.
This time, amazingly, it wasn’t the Death Wish Child, but #1, who had been late for a lesson and, in his haste (running in the corridor tsk tsk), had tripped over a rug and gone head first into a doorframe. ‘I really think he should go to the doctor’, said the Matron. It’s swelling rather alarmingly and it’s looking very ugly’ (cue indignant huffing noises in the background from #1 – later he said ‘can you believe she called me ugly?!’).
I know we were having that nature/nurture chat the other day, but it really does worry me that I’ve bestowed my natural clumsy-arsed bumbling upon my children. Take Saturday night when I decided we’d christen the new, hideously expensive granite fireplace (every time Hubby looks at it he goes a bit pale and has to sit down), so in I come, totally forgetting about a cardboard box of wood I’ve just put down, and fall straight over it. I actually landed face down lengthwise along the hearth, with the really tender part of my shin against the nasty hard edge and have a bruise the size of Lindsay Lohan’s liver to show for it. Ouch.
Anyhoo, back to the child formerly known as the sensible one. Off to the doctor’s we went, and very charming he was too. He actually said to #1 ‘oh, you brought your sister’ and damn my pink painted toenails if I didn’t giggle like a 12 year old. Pathetic really. After a thorough examination (questions included: ‘how many pens am I holding up?’, ‘any bleeding from the nose or ears?’ and the classic ‘and how many children do you have?’) plus a terribly painful prod about, the verdict was that #1 was bloody lucky it was an inch to the right of his eye, that he didn’t think it needed x-rays and the best thing would be to wait until the swelling, currently looking like half a plum stuck to his face, went down and if there was any indentation left on #1′s cheekbone, it would have to be ‘brought forward a bit’. This made #1 do an impression of his father looking at the hideously expensive fireplace, so Dr Charming quickly added that this would be unlikely and that #1 would be sporting a most fantastical black eye for a couple of weeks that would seriously impress his peers.
Smiles all round, then, and fifty quid lighter (I can’t get used to paying for a visit to the doctor, even if he is charming) we set off for home. I’m thinking full body armour and a full-face crash helmet for Christmas, then.
On the other matter, poor him. I ran out of the back door of my primary school, tripped and caught my forehead on the corner of the third step below the door. Bounce, large bump, othe£is% I;m Flime….
73: I know – what’s more ridiculous is that it actually made me blush like a school girl. Just goes to show you that us women aren’t immune to that kind of facile flattery eh?!
Oh and re yr nasty fall, what’s this ‘flime’ business? Case of sausage fingers on the keyboard there I fear?
Pretty impressive sight for an injury from a door (and not a fist!). My boys were the same – when we went to West Herts A & E – the usual question was “have they been seen here before” -
I referred them to the photo album somewhere in their archives! Love to you all – Heth
Heth: I got to the stage with #2 that we had visited Stoke Mandeville A&E so many times I thought social services might take him away (‘oh, he ‘fell down the stairs again’ did he, madam?’). If it wasn’t headbutting the hearth, it was a peppercorn lodged in his ear (that one required surgery), a split chin caused by trying to cycle up a skateboard ramp, or a swallow-dive off his bike into his Grandma’s rose bushes (that one required surgery to sew his lip back together). I might as well have just swanned into the hospital and gone ‘here’s my child, I beat the sh*t out of him’, I felt so bad!!! x
Now, about that doctor…disgraceful carry on..must get his surgery number in case I’m ever up your way and one of the boys has an accident!!
Isit: Absolutely. Disgusting the way these doctors operate (have emailed you his number) he he x
Just discovered your blog…I love it!
that’s funny because I am a French mummy in dublin myself…as you probably guessed with my terrible writing!
I’ll come back to read your aventures en famille and find inspiration with your receipes!
hope the black eye boy feels beter and got his hot chocolate and bourbons…
A bientot
Alas, in this case, the maternal clumsyarsedmama gene (Known as CAM to Boffins) has shown itself to be dominant. In the case of #2, hereditary clumsiness was immediate, in #1, late onset. Well, there you go. The only cure is for the boys to mate with nice sensible Cavan farmers daughters with loads of land to fall about on. I’ll set that up for you. ;oP