“Don’t forget to take your antibiotic!” I called out to Miss11. The answer I got wasn’t what I was expecting.
“Ahhhh!” came a scream from the backyard.
My first thought was someone had lost a limb – it was that loud and panicky – so I very nearly got up out of my chair and headed outside.
Nearly. Instead I cocked an ear to listen for any backup screams.
I got them. Lots of them.
“Ahhh!!!” bellowed several of my children in unison.
“You all okay out there?” I called out, still sitting.
“Noooo,” came a woeful, moany answer from Miss11. “My hand.”
“Her hand!” chorused several children.
With a heavy sigh I paused the important research I was doing on Youtube (cough) and went to have a look. Our paths converged on the balcony, where my daughter was leading with her right hand and holding it up in front of her with her left.
Oh, no, I thought, mainly because Tracey wasn’t home so I was going to get the blame for this because she for sure would try make out I wasn’t supervising the kids properly. She’s broken something.
I lent in to survey the damage. In my 23 years of parenting I’ve dealt with a couple of broken arms, a broken leg and a broken finger. I don’t like it but I hate more they always seem to happen when my wife isn’t around. I suspect some sort of conspiracy.
“I fell over, Daddy,” she whined miserably.
“It’s okay, darling. What have you-” I started. I was maybe an inch from her open palm. Then went straight into, “-ahhhhHHH!!!”
Then I retched.
Several hours later I was having a coffee with my in-laws when Miss11 rushed in.
“I didn’t have my antibiotic!” she said, reaching into the medicine cupboard. “I was going to do it but remember I fell over and had sloppy dog poo all over my hand.”
And that’s how my in-laws came to spit coffee all over my kitchen floor. Laughing while drinking will do that.
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“Raising a family on little more than laughs”