IMAGE : THE MOTHER LOAD | WTF Day! |
So I've labelled today 'International WTF Day'. Anyone else celebrating it with me? We put most of this in the first world problem category but here's how it's been so far (and it's only 2.00pm).
Miss A has been home for three days generally coughing and spluttering and insisting that all of my usual work attention be directed to her instead (today being no exception). Totally fine, I can cope with that. I can also cope with the 9am phone call from Miss O who's at school but feeling equally as unwell and therefore needs to be collected. Again, fine. Whatever. In the car, pull up at school, chuck her in and we're done there for the week.
A quick assessment of everyone's health means that the scheduled doctor's appointment for Miss A must now be allocated to Miss O (my triage skills are quite acute on the run it seems) so off to said Doctor we go. The usual half hour wait in the surgery is predictably correct and it gives me time to prime the lesser troubled patient (with the biggest mouth) about how it's better if she sits quietly and not ask too many questions about her big sister's ailment and not to offer the Doctor her diagnosis of the situation. Knowing also that we're preparing to see a lovely older Indian lady, I also make mention of the new rule in our house not to speak directly to people about their appearance or accent (something I learned last week while we were at the car wash and Miss A declared to the cashier that she "just couldn't understand a word she was saying"). See also my Tales Of Public Humiliation post for a further understanding of what I'm dealing with.
Anyway, doctor's appointment goes largely to plan despite all the rules about Miss A loudly declaring her diagnosis being largely ignored as I predicted. We get out to the car and while I'm strapping Miss A into her car seat, Miss O uses the time to push all the buttons in the car which are apparently exciting and mysterious. I jump into the driver's seat and Miss O quickly points to the cigarette lighter and asks me what it does if it's pushed in (in other words, she's pushed it in and now wants to know how much trouble she's in if it's broken). As I commence my explanation into why it's not something to touch, the lighter springs out of its safe house, flies into the air and with reflexes that would put Mr Miyagi to shame I snatch it up to avoid it landing on the leather seats. Somehow it manages to land flame side down on the tip of my finger leaving a blackened coil - like burn in place of my fingerprint. Ouch. That mofo hurts like hell and the smell of burning flesh is damn unnerving. So unnerving in fact that both girls simultaneously burst into screaming tears at the sight and smell of my charred digit which is incredibly helpful as I'm trying to pretend it doesn't feel as bad as it looks. "Oh no!!! I've burned your finger!!! It's all my fault! Why is is black!????" Scream, cry, etc. etc.
So as the drive home consists of me trying to drive 'rapidly' with one hand while trying use my happy soothing voice to calm everyone the-fuck-down (!), it occurs to me that regardless of whatever drama unfolds, kids have the amazing ability to always make it something that relates solely to them. In an ideal world should it not have been me howling at the sight of my OWN damn finger?? Clearly not - more accurately it went "your burnt finger is upsetting to look at and therefore I need comfort - NOW!". Finally we get home, everyone gets a hug and reassurance that my finger is completely painless (utter bullshit I might add), and THEN I'm finally free make the mad dash to the sink where I can plant my sizzled sausage under cold running water. Relief at last, both for my finger and my pulsing ears as the screaming tears have subsided.
So anyway, happy 'WTF' Day!
oh, poor Soph!! Sorry to say I did have a chuckle though at your plight. Hope your weekend is better - I hear holding a cold wine glass is good for burns?
ReplyDeleteGood advice, my unknown friend! Glad to hear you had a chuckle - I aim to please. Conveniently, a large portion of my life is actually laughable so it works well...;)
DeleteFreakin' hilarious!
ReplyDeleteAnd how's your finger?
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Finger is damn sore - thanks for asking, OSL. Thankfully, quiet revenge ensued when Miss A accidentally jammed hers in a drawer earlier. *insert and inappropriate evil laugh here!* Clearly, International WTF Day celebrations continued in our house this afternoon....;)
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