Seriously, poor Littleboy1.
His foot had to have stitches the other day, bless him.
It all started when I accidentally (well, I say I... really I mean Jasper, but I feel the need to blame myself for taking my eyes off the dog for a split-second. Big mistake there) knocked a mug onto the floor, which then smashed into about a million pieces...
So the other day, I was making dinner after I'd brought Littleboy1 home from school (I like to give him his tea fairly early as he's always complaining he's starving, despite having a two-course meal at school, and I hate it when he moans, I can't get an ounce of peace), and I'd brought my mug out to make myself a cup of tea (the moaning had already started and I needed a pick-me-up).
Unfortunately, I'd picked the wrong day to cook bacon, as this was the day Hubby neglected to walk Jasper while I made the tea, so I had to do it myself after I'd served Littleboy1.
Jasper came running in, barking and holding a paw up to the stove.
"Away, Jasper," I said, frantically batting him away. "Go outside for a minute."
Did he obey? Of course not.
Littleboy1 came running out, hearing all the commotion. "What's happening Mummy?"
"Nothing, honey, I'm just making your tea. Take Jasper outside for a bit, he keeps trying to eat your food."
Littleboy1 came over and gripped onto Jasper's collar, trying to pull him, failing miserably.
"No, don't pull him, just call him out," I said, one hand on the frying pan and the other ready to swat at whoever came near it.
So Littleboy1 ran to the back door and opened it. "Jasper! Jasper! Jasper!"
Jasper looked up but made no effort to follow the calls. Instead he got a little overexcited, and so he promptly knocked my mug onto the floor with a shatter of pottery.
"JASPER!" I shrieked. Well, that was my favourite mug gone.
"What Mummy?" Littleboy1 came rushing in, as he'd gone to find his ball when he'd seen Jasper make no attempt to follow him outside.
"Don't step there!" I warned, which of course made him step there (what is it with children and automatically doing the opposite of your orders?), causing him to stand, full-frontal, onto the mess.
"OUCH!" he kept screaming, hopping round the room.
Oh, God. "JOSEPH!" I was shouting, and wouldn't stop shouting until Hubby came out of his stupid office and came to see why I was screaming that awful, weird scream.
Almost immediately Hubby had strapped him in the car and we were all off to the A & E before even getting the chance to have a look at his sole.
When we arrived at the hospital I was really scared. What if it was infected? Tons of thoughts were racing through my mind and I couldn't take it.
About 10 minutes into our waiting, a nurse came out and took Littleboy1 into her room. Hubby went with him, whereas I stayed outside with Littleboy2, worried out of my mind.
"Everything will be fine," I kept muttering to Littleboy2, rocking his pram, "everything will be ju-u-u-ust fine, right?"
Littleboy2 just stared up at me, confused.
So was I, in a way.
I didn't know what the hell was going on. I kept texting Hubby, but his phone must have been off. Why?? Why?? Why couldn't he contact me??
About 2 hours after we'd arrived, Littleboy1 and Hubby came out, limping (Littleboy1, not Hubby, though he will be when I get hold of him) and holding onto his daddy.
"Baby!" I practically screamed, lifting him into my arms. "What happened? Why were you gone so long? I was so worried!"
Hubby received a slap and then said, "he had to have some stitches."
My eyes then bulged out of my head. "WHAT? And you didn't think to tell me, call me, TEXT ME??" I was so angry.
"We didn't want to worry you, Faye. We knew it would all be okay, just a couple of stitches because the pottery had sliced the foot. No infections, no stray pot lodged somewhere, it was all checked."
I looked at Littleboy1. "And he was brave, yes?"
"Very. He didn't even need to hold my hand like you do."
I rolled my eyes but cuddled Littleboy1 close. My brave little boy.
My brave, brave little boy.
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