What a day. After a sore day yesterday (after using crutches at the cinema I spent yesterday recovering) I popped out with mum for an hour to see the sky and have a coffee. We had just sat down with our vanilla lattes and fruit bread (any woman will know the inner peace that felt when the latte and sweet treat sit before you) when Andy rang to say he was at A&E. Max had cut his head open playing football at school and after bleeding profusely in the school office, was now waiting for stitches at the hospital. I’ve never hobbled so fast back to our little yellow mini – see I am becoming Speedy – and we spent the next three hours in the children’s room in Rotherham’s answer to Holby City. Max contentedly played on a computer game there while me and Andy contemplated what the docs were going to do to our little baby.
Unbelieveably, a nurse calmly glued his pink, gashed scalp back together (Max hurt then – ow ow OW!) and he came home walking wounded with a brave present for his troubles. Poor little darling. Very brave though and rather pleased he can't have a bath until next Friday!
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