The past week has been quite a challenge in terms of routine due to the dreaded germ machines which are our kids. I had provisionally planned out work earlier in the week but had to cancel due to my son falling ill with a cold. The cold combined with a scratch on his knee made it a chaotic beginning to the week.

After school on Friday my son came limping out of the school gates like a wounded soldier and I was told by staff that he had taken a tumble during play. He knee took a bit of a knock and was slightly swollen but he adamantly refused to let me look at his graze.

Saturday morning he woke up and begged for me to carry him down the stairs. When I refused, he begrudgingly hobbled down the stairs wincing and moaning with each step. What he failed to notice however was the fact that I was noticing the occasions when he had forgotten he was so very badly wounded and would walk normally to get things like the tv remote or a toy. Since it was the weekend, I pandered to the required attention…. until bath time.

When it came to taking a bath, it felt like a moment out of a televised birthing show with my son being a mother in labour and me being a midwife. As he gingerly took off the sticky parts of the bandaid to expose the 1cm graze (which was now stuck to the gauze), I had to remind him to take long deep breaths and to slowly exhale. I felt in some respects as though I was removing shrapnel. Eventually with copious amounts of warm water the bandaid came free and we were able to wash the ‘patient’. In hindsight I reckon it was this delay which exacerbated his bug and contributed to him being ill.

As the Saturday evening came to an end I over heard the little trooper telling his older sister about how brave he was and what he had to endure with being so injured. The older sibling made sure to insert the appropriate teenage, “hmmmm” and “Oh really?” and she even convinced me that she was fascinated and genuinely interested by what her brother was excitedly describing.

My two were just a little bit curious though when they heard a fit of laughter coming from the kitchen around tea time, as soon as I had overheard my son describe his 1 cm graze as being the size of the whole United Kingdom. The ever attentive teen had replied with “Oh Really?”, the fisherman’s tale son felt very pleased with himself.

And the mum laughed and laughed and laughed…