The body count...
Oh crikey.
I know this just goes with the territory, but does it seem to anyone else that there are a lot of damaged babies (large and small) around our bit of the blogosphere lately?
There's Blackbird's youngest, on oxygen.
Surfing Free's youngest, on a saline drip.
Babelbabe's Segundo, shoving a guitar dangerously close to his carotid artery (sorry, BB, did I really read that right?)
My Float's boy going all Jack-Jack Incredible (see the movie, even though he hasn't gone to hospital, it's a serious situation!)
And the Evil Twin (more kindly known as Sparkle), with a thumping great tear across her cornea and a stint in the Sydney Eye Hospital.
Anyone else?
And for those who asked: Sparkle Twin (let's be nice to the wounded) didn't so much tear her cornea as had it torn for her... by her twin brother... with a metal spike.
YES, ALL RIGHT, I WAS IN CHARGE AND I'M A SHITTY, SHITTY MOTHER, OK?!
I could hear them in absent-big-sister's bedroom and they were playing a lovely game and Sparkle was saying "I'll be grandmamma" and Gorgeous Boy said "And I'll be the Ninja" and it all sounded so peaceful and happy that I just left them to it and dealt with my annoying media issue thingy that was spreading from station to station and requiring considerable attention
and then
there was a screeeaaamm.
And I ran.
And as I ran I heard metal hitting floorboards with a nasty spikey clangy sound.
And I turned into the bedroom and saw her still screaming and holding her eye.
And I said no, no, no.
And I gently lifted her hand off her eye.
And it was still there.
Thanks be to the God of Bad Mothers.
GB was up on the Pea Princess' loft bed. Looking apprehensive.
I asked what happened. Sparkle told me. I said to GB, "Is that right? Did you poke her in the eye with a metal stick because you wanted her scissors?"
(NONE OF THIS CAN REFLECT WELL ON ME, YOU MIGHT AS WELL KNOW IT ALL)
He said yes.
Then he burst into tears.
I considered describing how he would suffer for this at the hands of his sisters over the next 80 or 90 years - but instead left him to sob and considered remedial action for the Sparkle, still howling and holding her eye.
So now you know.
She's back for her (hopefully) final check up on Saturday.
And aren't we all glad for the incredible, blissfully efficient, healing powers of the soft and the young?
mtc
bec
ps - you still need to read Kim's 6 month letter to Jasper below. The boy is more edible than ever.
posted by Bec at 4/13/2006 10:41:00 pm
10 Comments:
GB will have to live with the SHAME.
Youngest is doing well -
he'd be doing better, but, ass that I am, I took him to the orthodontist.
Because I am an ass.
Did I mention? I'm an ass.
Oh no! what fresh hell is this?
OMG!!! I don't do eyes. I would have freaked. So glad she's okay!
Attention children of bloggers the world over: KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF.
Oh, and the boy child broke the girl child's collarbone when she was three and he was five by pushing her off a bed INTO A WALL. And they were jumping on the bed when it happened.
And I? Did not realize it was actually broken so I failed to take her to the hospital until TWO DAYS LATER.
So you can have that Bad Mom award when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.
It was a microphone stand that came with the guitar. If it had been the guitar itself...
My brother pushed me off the rope ladder leading up to the treehouse when we lived in Waco (Yes that Waco, in Texas.) when he was 5 and I was 3. So Bec - her revenge will be long and exacting if she is anything like me in elephantine memories and the ability to never forget and never let anyone else forget.
And I know, I shouldn't be laughing because I'm feeling a bit vomitous at it and can well imagine the emotions you experienced seeing a child holding their eye.
But poking her in the eye with a metal stick to get her scissors - just mades me crack up. Because you see, that is just the kind of logic that fills my world each and every day.
I know live the world of boys rumbling each other. Boys daring each other. Boys taunting each other with acts of physical violence/aggression and basic stupidity, only to turn to me when they do get hurt (which they always do) crying that the other hit/kicked/punched/annoyed them. To which I reply, "and what did you do" and often get as a reply "just punched him to the ground/held his head in a vice/yelled in his ear" etc etc etc.
And I'm with Badger:
Attention children of bloggers of the world: KNOCK THAT SHIT OFF.
If I were the rattling rosary kind, I would be seriously on my knees. In a church, even.
This is really scary stuff.
I need to stop reading blogs in case it's catching.
Whenever my kids do something they shouldn't (which is always), my husband's response is almost always, "Well, why'd you let them do that?" Oh yes, as if I really LET them pound their forks into our new wooden kitchen table, or pick the keys off my computer, or eat the cheerios out of the dismanteled dustbuster (well, most of the time I don't...but if it involves washable markers...it does wipe right off...so go for it.)
I have to divide my sympathies 40/60: 40 to sparkle for being the victim and 60 to GB because he'll have to live with it for the rest of his life! Unlike corneal scratches, memories never heal. Sisters never forget (I still torment my brother about the time he told he could help me fly. All I had to do was sit on his feet and he would propel me into the sky. I landed a metre away and sprained my back, from which I've never recovered, hee hee).
And I'm with you all - knock.it.off kids!
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