Well the smell at my desk seems to have subsided a little, though the paranoid part of me says that I’m just used to the smell now and that something is still rotting away somewhere. Yuk.
Yesterday was a bit of a worrying day. At 5.30pm, while I was gearing up for the last hour at work, a colleague came over. “Dan, your wife’s on the phone.” This was strange, as Mel never ever ever calls me at work – My mobile is always on, so I get a “missed call” on that and call Mel back from the work landline to save money.
“Are you sure it’s MY wife?,” I asked, “she never calls me at work.”
Anyway, I pick up line 2 and sure enough, it IS Mel. “Babe,” she says. I’m not sure why we call each other Babe. Nothing to do with the star of the movie of the same name though. “Can you come home NOW.” There was a dramatic pause. Well, a dramatic pause with children screaming in the background, but you get used to that with four kids. “B has cracked her head open.”
With that, I was off in the car, battling through rush hour traffic to get home. Mel took B and baby CG to the doctors (as opposed to A&E, on their advice), and next door neighbour but one looked after the other two.
I got back just as they came out of the doctors. B’s hair was red from the blood, but aside from that and a couple of steri-stitches, you wouldn’t have known anything was wrong with her.
“Are you ok baby?” I asked.
“Daddy, sticker!” she shouted proudly in response, showing off her “I was good at the doctors” sticker.
The funny thing about it all was when Mel was recapping what happened. All parents out there will recognise this and know why what was said, was said. Non-parents will be running to call Childline.
C (our eldest) ran from the living room, where they were all playing, into the kitchen, where Mel was at the laptop. “Mummy, B’s hurt herself and is crying.” Said C. “She’ll be fine” was mummy’s reply, knowing full well that “She’s hurt herself” is an oft-muttered saying in our house. Eldest daughter was happy enough with the answer, and ran back off to the living room, only to reappear in the kitchen 60 seconds later.
“Mummy, B’s got blood all over her”
Cue frantic rush to clear up blood, get the girls ready, calling the neighbour, calling me and rushing to the doctors.
I’ll try and get a picture of B with her red hair up later. Thankfully she’s ok now and back to tormenting her brother and being a cheeky moo!