25 October 2008

Tumble Tots

On Saturday morning, two boys entered the woods on their bicycles. “I saw some other kids doing a jump over there” said one to the other, pointing to a grassy knoll in the distance.
“Cool. Do it!” instructs his friend.
The boy lines his bike up whilst his friend stands and eggs him on from the side lines. “Really go for it!” he says.
“Okay” he shouts back over his shoulder as he mentally prepares himself, speeding up for take-off. And take off he did, flying through the sky like a big, pink torpedo before landing face first in the undergrowth.

Dog walkers, hearing what they assumed were the frantic screams of a young girl, rushed over to see what had happened. To their surprise, the high pitched whimpers were coming from a 32 year old male who looked up at them pathetically through mud splattered glasses. And that’s how Accountant broke his collar bone.

As we had 3 hours to spare whilst waiting in A&E and Accountant was a conveniently captive audience, I decided to raise some discussion points.

1. What was a 14 stone grown man who had never gone out on his bike without falling off thinking - dirt jumping in the woods?
2. And, why was he catapulting himself across the countryside at the very moment he’d promised he’d be arriving home?

Turning toward me like a robot in a neck brace, Accountant winced as he explained that it was all my nephew’s fault for showing him the jump and then went on to blame his friend for making him do it. I mustered an eyebrow raise, marvelling at how little the adult male develops from childhood.

“And you weren’t home when you promised because....?” I prompted.

Accountant suddenly took a turn for the worse, sucking in air through gritted teeth at just the same time his name was called over the tannoy to attend minor injuries.

One hour later, with no operation or plaster required, I could tell Accountant was very pleased with himself as the pretty young nurse lent over him to tie his sling instructing him gently to take it easy for the next six weeks. He nodded seriously, a smug smile tugging at his lips. I resisted an urge to poke his shoulder.

Back at home, I began to get a taste as to what my life would be like for the next month.

“I need a beer” he hollered from the sofa. It was hard to hear him above the footie. “Can you turn the tv up too? I would do it but I can’t move” he added, pointing to his sling.

Once Chickie was delivered back from Nanna’s, he was briefed on daddy’s minor injury. “Poor daddy” he sympathised, bounding over to cuddle him.

Accountant’s screams were delightfully shrill as he realised that recuperating avec toddler might not be as cushy as anticipated.

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