Having delivering three bigguns to school yesterday, I ran into to the house to get B1 as he had lost his shoes and was still looking for them. That boy could lose his own bum in his undies lately! Then I did a few things differently to the usual. I left the keys in the car. I undid Shortie's seat belt so she could get the small toys out from under herself. I shut the car door so she couldn't escape when she had found the toys. Okay, they weren't toys but coinage she was holding onto to buy lol-lols. How many counts am I up for so far, Your Honour?
After ranting at the son for a few minutes about his Matrix-like slo-mo speed and lack of shoes, I went back to check on Flossy who was still singing and playing with her money in her seat. I decided to take her inside before realising the DOOR HAD SELF-LOCKED!!!! Oh the panic! I was calm for a few minutes, panic level at about 4, coaxing her to pull the door handle open or push the unlock button on the dash. She smiled kindly at me and suggested I should get the keys. When I ran inside to get the spares and ransacked the big fella's bits cupboard, I realised he had taken them to some unreachable outward bound nook of Northern New South Wales! Panic level at about 6. It was 9 a.m. in partial shade. The picture below is what was actually there.
The picture below is what I saw! I rang the RACQ. Do you know they have a button to push for "Is your child locked in a car"? They were kind, prompt and on the way. Derek, from RACQ, even rang back to check I was okay and told me to hose the car if it got hotter! What! By now, the lairy godmother was here too. "I have my umbrella," she reassured me. My addled brain was thinking, "For what? To pick the lock?!" Of course it was to shade the edge of the car!!? Joe, the RACQ man, arrived and behaved calmly but was shaking as he jimmied the door which spiralled my panic level up to 9.999. (I like to think I retained some control.) It was open in a jiffy and I grabbed the nonplussed toddler and hugged the bewildered Joe. Sweet relief!
After a calming tea with LG, I popped off a quick birthday blog and had just hit publish when the phone rang from that most dreaded phone call source- the school. B2 had a suspected broken arm. B1 was still with me so we packed up Shorty who was eating the forgotten frogspawn jelly to get the fluids up in my mind's eye. After swapping one twin for the other we spent a pleasant enough afternoon at the Royal Children's Hospital. "Yes, he has been in before for a broken arm. Yes, he was in three weeks ago for a split lip. Yes, the other one was in eight weeks ago with a similar broken arm." I feel people are judging me. Here they are on the blue mile...
...and later, clutching his lifeline. Order seemed restored till Lairy mentioned that these things happen in threes. I tried to make the lost shoes be the third thing, just to throw the fates off my scent but you can't dodge the legacy of the 'three'.
This morning, as we gardened and watered Downtheback, Flossy lost her footing and fell off the cubby ladder winding herself. For a few seconds she couldn't get her breath and neither could I. We all breathed easier when she did. So there it is- three! Now I can get on with some painting. I have cancelled all after school activities this afternoon as we are hunkering down and hiding out till the demon of threes is far, far away.
She is fully recovered, back in the cubby again
and happily planking in front of Play School.
I , on the other hand, may not be back in the saddle again so soon and I need my Magic Three Talisman back, thanks, Lairy Godmother.
For a fairly accurate re-enactment of yesterday's locked child incident listen to this.
She is fully recovered, back in the cubby again
and happily planking in front of Play School.
I , on the other hand, may not be back in the saddle again so soon and I need my Magic Three Talisman back, thanks, Lairy Godmother.
For a fairly accurate re-enactment of yesterday's locked child incident listen to this.
