Chin up

5.50pm. Sunday. Kids showing off their scooter and bike riding abilities to Grandma and Craig. Turned my back thinking it was time to get them in, and there was a wail... The kind you drop everything (even that precious iPhone) for and start running at high speed towards. And the kind that tells you something is very wrong, even if you can't see blood at first.

Where's it sore,  Jessica, tell me? What's wrong? And a face drenched in tears and with a wide wailing mouth lifts to me and suddenly there is a trickle of blood that turns to a flood. And she sees her hands are red and her shirt is splattered and it all magnifies. Amplifies. And I have her scooped up and iamrunningforadam...

Wash the blood away and find that her chin is gaping open and we will need stitches. Grab clean clothes and into car and off to Casualty. iPhone in hand distracting her. Then it is all triage, green sticker, hurry and wait, at last a nurse and swabbing wound, finally the doctor, call to plastic surgeon, pay money, wait a bit longer, plan for a morning at hospital tomorrow. Adam arrived tea in hand (love him sooooo much) and we are home by 10pm.

Jessica post-doctor with her dressing on her chin

Oh, and let me add the cherry on the top. Once she was in a bed and waiting in a chilly Casualty ward for the doctor (picture me in a short skirt and t-shirt shivering), Madame J got quite firm about the use of the bottom of her bed. "NO mommy, it's my bed. YOU have to sit on the chair"  and "NO mommy, you can't come in my bed with me. I'LL read the iPhone story to MYSELF" and  "YOU'RE not ALLOWED to sit under my blanket on the end of MY bed".

Ah. Back to normal.