Sigh

Brendon: cough.
Me: Cough. Cough cough. COUGH.
Isabelle: Small snottiness. Sore ear.
Aidan: Fever. Tired. COUGH COUGH chuck. Sneeze. Snot.
Orla: Fever. Copious snot. COUGH.

Roll on spring.

The return

We are back from Christchurch after a quick trip to celebrate Isabelle's sixth birthday.

Approaching security on the way to our plane, Aidan cheerily announced to me "I've got a gun in my bag!". Cue brief talk on the merits of not saying such things around security staff. Funnily enough, I had made sure that his plastic pistol was packed in the suitcase on the way there, but had forgotten about this for the return journey. Well, sure enough, his bag caused a small flurry of excitement amongst the staff as it passed through the x-ray machine. We were called over to the naughty person area where the bag was inspected and pronounced as unsuitable for flying with. Aidan and Brendon returned to the main airport area to post the bag up to Wellington, where hopefully it will meet us in a couple of days.

Isabelle says her favourite thing in Christchurch was having her birthday there.
Aidan says his favourite thing was driving the thing over the water at the plane museum.
Orla says "ahh, blub".

More snippets

We have a bellbird in our garden.

Orla speaks in Orla sentences. Her first: "Where cat gone?" (cute!). Also heard: "Shut the door" (promising!), "Read me book" (aahh!) and "Kick the cat" (not cutie cutie).

Aidan's wound is just little now.

Isabelle can't wait until her birthday.

Blood

Yesterday afternoon was shaping up quite well. Orla was asleep in her cot. I was working at the computer. Isabelle and Aidan played outside by the deck. The sun was shining and I had the door open so I could listen out for them as I worked.

Then came the screams. Aidan came stumbling through the door with his hands on his forehead. Blood was pouring out between them. I got him into the bathroom sitting on the stool leaning forward, and pressed the nearest flannel to his face to apply pressure. I knew that head wounds tend to bleed profusely even when they are teeny tiny, but the amount on his clothes and pooling at his feet was impressive. A trail of red led from door, to computer, to bathroom.

By now Brendon had come back inside and was on mopping duty.

After a few minutes I managed to take a peek and saw a relatively small wound (about 1 centimetre across) which looked disturbingly deep to the lay person. Aidan took a long time to calm down. Isabelle told us that he had had a run in with a metal stake.

Brendon eventually got most of the blood mopped off, and after a drink and something to eat Aidan was almost back to his usual self. I insisted on a bandage as blood was still seeping - this was achieved with bribery and corruption (a promised ice cream). I also insisted that we were going to take a trip to the after hours to get it looked at and properly cleaned.

Brendon and girls dropped Aidan and I off - one look in the door and I saw that we were going to be there for a while. And the after hours waiting room is not a place you want to be unless you really have to be.

By now, Aidan could only be described as perky. I felt like getting him to whimper or something, or have a dramatic gush. Perkiness does not improve our triage position! But seriously, there is no ethical way I would have gone ahead of most of the people in that room. There were some very sick little children, adults looking like death, someone on oxygen. After a bit of exuberant running around with a truck, Aidan settled down to read a Tintin book with me. We watched a bit of Olympic gymnastics on the telly. Aidan said "I think it's great that a little kid can do that" (as we watched a tiny Chinese gymnast on the uneven bars). I told him I suspected she was a little older than she looked.

Then on came the boxing. Aidan looked confused and asked what this was. I said it was called boxing, and the men were trying to get points by hitting each other. Aidan said "That's not right". I mentally sighed, and said something like it was OK when adults agreed to do it when they had rules, pointing out the referee etc. But that it was not OK for children to box each other. And even then some adults think that boxing is not OK.

Since when did an easy parental absolute (hitting each other is wrong!) become so complicated?!

Anyway, we saw the nurse, then the doctor, then the nurse for three steri strips, a clean and a waterproof bandage. $40, including $12 for the bandage. I should have bought my own from the chemist next door. But still, I was happy to pay it and happy that we could afford to.

Aidan was a model of patience and good behaviour.

The injury happened around 3.00 - we were back home to devour the dinner that Brendon had cooked in our absence by 7.00. And of course, we had the promised ice cream that we picked up on the way home. Aidan went to bed soon after. I checked him three times in the night as he chose last night to almost sleep through without coming into our bed for his customary pre-midnight cuddle.

I just asked Aidan how he feels today - "My cough seems to be gone. (cough, cough)". So I guess that means he is just fine. The bandage is discreetly hidden by his fringe.

Why I bake my own bread

So I popped out to the dairy yesterday to buy a couple of loaves of white as I hadn't got around to baking my own.

Here's what the packaging said:

"Kiwi's have grown up with Tip Top since forever Nature's best ingredients deliver super soft freshness in every slice - and that's what makes our bread TOP'S"

Apparently kiwi's have no need for full stop's and we quite like a'postrophe's.

Also: "If for any reason you are not entirely happy with this loaf, we will replace it".

I wonder if grammar outrage qualifies as "any reason"? But what would they replace it with?


(Furtively re-reads blog to check for non-intentional grammatical errors).

Snippets

It's been rainy. Cold. I'm tired and have a snotty nose. So not much blogging lately.

Orla has decided to vote with her feet and abandon the highchair to sit at the table with the big kids. This has pros and cons. Being small, she sees no real difference between sitting on her chair and standing on the table. I, however, see quite a pronounced difference. And a highchair tray does keep a bowl of dumped porridge somewhat contained.

Isabelle has been doing swimming lessons at school for the past three weeks. She hasn't done lessons before, and is really enjoying them. Apparently she needed goggles. Luckily the supermarket sells them for $5.

Aidan is doing simple additions on his fingers. This is what happens when your big sister learns additions at school. He is tested (by her) in the car on the way home: "Aidan, what is 10 + 7?".

I went out for lunch on Saturday at a real restaurant with adults. It was fun.

We are about to enter our local birthday season. The parties are booked - invites are pending.