“I have a sore on my toe,” Miss5 whined from bed last night.
I pretended not to hear. Something which requires award winning acting skills when there’s no other sound in the bus and the person talking is less than two meters away.
Which usually works a treat except Tracey was sitting beside me doing the exact same thing.
“Guys!” Miss5 said in her outside voice. “My. Toe. Still. Hurts.”
I risked a glance at Tracey who was risking a glance at me. This is Parenting 101 here in Devereauxville.
“Your turn,” said Tracey.
“Because I have boobs.”
Check + mate.
“Show me where it’s sore,” I said to Miss5 a few moments later and she pointed to a small crack under her big toe.
Reaching deep into my daddy bag of tricks I then tried kissing it better, which I saw as taking one for the team. We struggle to get Miss5 to wear any footwear even – and this is specifically what I was thinking about as my lips lightly touched the pad of her big toe – to the loo.
“It still hurts,” she said.
“Bandaid will fix that,” I told her, wiping imaginary grit from my mouth and wondering why I didn’t try that first.
“I tell you what,” I said eventually, running out of ideas, “if it still hurts in the morning I’ll take you to the doctors.”
This at last seemed to make her happy and she closed her eyes and was asleep within minutes.
“Isn’t that a bit drastic?” Tracey muttered as I returned to my chair.
I assured her a doctors visit was not on the cards.
“It worked, didn’t it?” I said, grinning at her smugly.
And then, at about five o’clock this morning, I got to see that exact expression reflected back at me from Tracey’s side of the bed.
“It still hurts,” Miss5 had yelled at me. Actually, it was likely just her normal speaking voice, but as I was asleep it had the same effect as an airhorn. “Can I go to the doctors now?”
“Good one,” smirked Tracey, rolling away from us.
“Daddy, wake up,” said Miss5. “Come on! We need to go to the doctors!”
“Why,” moaned Master12 from his mole hole under our bed while there were rustles and grunts from the other three occupied bunks as well, “does she need to go to the doctors?”
Tracey put her sleep on hold for a moment longer to answer.
“Because your Dad’s an idiot,” she called out.
I’d have gone with our daughter’s toe being sore, but I guess that works too.