What my mother did

Like many four-year-olds Jacob is firmly of the belief that you should never walk anywhere when you could hop, skip or jump. Better still is an amalgamation of all three. This method of perambulation combined with the varied and creative condition of many of the footpaths in these parts does, unfortunately, frequently find him abruptly sprawled face-down.

Last week, insult was added to injury when not only did he find himself once again counting ants, but his absent-minded-six-month-pregnant-staring-up-at-the-sky mother failed to notice and proceeded to walk on top of him! Luckily, only his index finger and sense of maternal care and consideration were injured. The latter taking quite some fixing, I might add!

Ice applied to the injured finger halted the swelling and an enormous blood blister beneath his nail eventually subsided although I did warn him that the nail may blacken and fall off. Jacob wondered if he would be able to show it to the kids at creche and when I assured him that he would he responded with a very enthusiastic “Cooooooool!”

Reality however is apparently not quite so cool. The creche just rang to say that Jacob’s fingernail is loose and coming off and Jacob is unnerved enough by the experience to want to come home. After some telephone discussions he has agreed to settle for having a bandaid applied, preferably a Bart Simpson one, eating his lunch with the other kids and seeing how he feels after that.

I suggested he also make use of his fingernail at this afternoon’s show-and-tell session. I suspect his pre-school teacher may be hoping for more uplifting topics but then again, as the class obsession at the moment is farts, poo and bottoms Jacob’s dead fingernail is practically high-brow!

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