We had our coffees and were getting our heads down to work when the phone rings, and as gently as possible Lex’s teacher explains to us there’s been an accident. Lex was running too fast, tripped on a table, his head made contact with the edge of said table, all resulting in a cut on the head that they said would probably require stitches. We were reassured that our little man was OK after a good crying session, and that he was calm and sitting there with an icepack on his head. Naturally we needed to go and get him.
Steve said I’ll go, and I said, no I’ll go, but then we realised we both had to go because who knew what our little love was about to face when we took him to the doctors? Stitches (and other serious stuff) have been unchartered territory for us so far, which is definitely amazing considering the antics of our lads. We drove in silence to school, feeling very anxious and not saying much to each other. Holding hands while driving was the only sign of the apprehension we were both feeling.
The most shocking thing when we arrived is Lex’s face was completely yellow – SHIT is it that bad? Oh it’s just paint. Oh that’s good, that’s very good.
The cut wasn’t too deep, and Lex was bloody thrilled to have both Mum and Dad there to pick him up. Off to the doctors, a triple layer of glue, Lex was a champion, and afterwards he got a brave boy present. It actually turned out to be an opportunity to spend some time together with Lex – and that is something he loves.
So all is good, but shite, this parenting malarkey….
Yours, without the bollocks