Toe Nut


“Ahhhhh!” came the blood curdling scream from the balcony. Whereas I would probably wait where it went from there, Tracey was out of the house in seconds.

“What’s wrong?” she said, kneeling down to Miss3, who was clutching her foot and bellowing at it.

“Ahhhh hurt my fooooot!!!” It was her little toe.

The thing to do when a kid hurts themself, of course, is to divert their attention. It’s the second most useful way to make them forget and move on.

“How?” Tracey asked her, because getting them talking about their injury is a distraction in and of itself.

“Ahhh kicked the t-t-table,” explained Miss3, beginning to settle down as the pain subsided, but still very much aggrieved.

This was not turning into a good day for poor Miss3. Only minutes before this she’d had a rude shock in the kitchen and had, in fact, stormed outside in a huff to, as it turned out, stub her toe.

“Donuts!” Miss3 had squealed delightedly. She was ‘helping’ Tracey put away the groceries. “Mummy, I love donuts. Tank you!”

“What donuts?” Tracey asked. She didn’t buy any donuts.

“These,” said Miss3, showing her mum the shop-a-docket from one of the bags. Sure enough, on the back of the receipt was a picture of donuts advertising a deal of some kind.

“That’s just a picture, darling.”

“No, Mummy. You got donuts. See!”

Clearly she’s put together the docket lists all the items you buy and, as she can’t read the writing yet, figures the piccy is it.

And with that Miss3 started to ferret through each and every bag in search of her snack. Then the cupboards. The the fridge. Then Tracey’s handbag. The whole time she kept up a commentary with her mum, which mainly consisted of asking where the donuts were.

Eventually, when she came up empty handed, she leveled an accusation of ‘hiding food’ at her mother and stormed off outside with her thoughts on the injustice of it all instead of where she was walking.

But on the bright side, kicking her toe had done a damn good job of making her forget all about the donut dilemma.

Tracey gave the injured foot a rub and offered the universal band aid – that number one fix all in the arsenal of parents the world over.

“Do you want me to kiss it better?” she asked. “And then we’ll get something to eat.”

“Yes,” said Miss3. But as Tracey bent down with puckered lips, Miss3 stopped her.

“Wait! Have you got yucky lips, Mummy?’ she asked Tracey suspiciously.

It seems Miss3 was concerned Tracey’s festy, germ-ridden lips would pass on something nasty to her foot, which I might add had been in full contact with the floorboards, the carpet, the pebbles, the grass and the stepping stones. Most of which the dog has right of way on.

“I know,” Miss3 said. “You can give me a donut to make me feel better instead. That will fix my foot, Mummy. Tank you.”

The next ‘Ahhh!’ was from Tracey, only she says she managed to keep it in her head.


When not typing away over here and checking his stats every two minutes Bruce Devereaux hangs out at his ‘BIG FAMILY little income’  Facebook Page.

 ’raising a family on little more than laughs’

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