A little box appeared on my computer screen at work yesterday. I’d received an email from Tracey.
Your son got his head caught in the bars of his bed.
“Did you get a photo?” I asked Tracey moments later on the phone.
“He’s fine,” she said, clearly under-impressed with my concern. “I eventually managed to pry him loose.”
“I take it, since you’re avoiding answering the question, that you didn’t.”
It seems Tracey had been on the phone to her sister, checking up on Cousin6, when the kerfuffle began.
“I was pretending to be supermum, saying how great it is to have the kids home for the holidays and how well behaved they’ve been, when suddenly there was this almighty scream and kids were running at me from every direction. I raced into the bedroom and there he was, head stuck between the bars like a cow in the stocks.”
“Why would he do that?” I asked.
“He says he was lying on the bed with his head up against the bars.”
“He just decided to do it.”
I fear there’s going to be a lot more conversations like this when he gets to high school.
“He didn’t hurt himself at all, did he?” See, I got there eventually.
“His ears are a bit red,” said Tracey. “But at least that might stop him from doing it again.”
You’d think so, wouldn’t you?
But that night, after we’d all enjoyed a lovely meal together and split up to different rooms of the house (we can do more damage that way), Tracey again heard a kerfuffle from Master8’s room and went to investigate.
“Again?!” she said, looking with disbelief at her son again caught with his head between the bars. “Why would you do that again?”
“Because dad wanted to take a photo,” said Master8.
Tracey took another step into the room and sure enough, there I was, camera in hand, sheepish look on my face.
“It’s a reenactment,” I told her.
Tracey might genuinely love it when the kids are home for the holidays, but I’m starting to think she prefers it when I’m at work.
Our ‘BIG FAMILY little income’ Facebook Page
‘raising a family on little more than laughs’