Monday, 3 December 2007

agony and ecstasy

Thank you, all you concerned citizens of Smiddler's Gulch, I am feeling marginally better. I am drawing fishy tiles to fill an order (no, you're not, you're BLOGGING! Well, Hazel just called and she's going to be late, so I am taking it slow, okay?)

Today, Chas figures his finger is better, and he will be able to accompany the choir for practice. Oh, didn't I tell you about the finger? It happened in the midst of last week's madness, and got forgotten. Because I am a Mommy like that, sad to say.

The boys' school asked me to make some fudge for their cake stall, and since I had NOTHING else to DO, I said "SURE!" I figured Sam could help stir, as he is a careful and mindful child, who would never do anything dangerous in the kitchen. He is my #1 kitchen assistant.

On the night of the great fudge making, however, Sam was very tired from a busy week so I put him to bed early and decided to ask my impulsive, insomniac, super-hyper eldest son, Chas, to help instead. Chas and I love to do stuff together at night, it is great one-on-one time for us. I figured I would just WATCH HIM very closely, and all would be well. Anyone who knows Chas is now saying "You DIDN'T!"

We had a great time, and made 15 bags of fudge, and I watched Chas put his finger into the pot of bubbling fudge.

Only the tip of his finger, mind you, but OW! OW! OW!

Chas ran to the sink and ran cold water on his burn, and I filled a cup with ice and met him there. He stuck his finger in the icy water, and we looked at each other while the fudge burned merrily and stuck to the pot. I shook my head at my poor, absent-minded scientist, mad-as-a-crab son, and he rolled his eyes at me. I put toothpaste on the burn, (thank you, Sharon, for another brilliant home cure! It works like a dream!) and gave Chas a Panadol for the pain.

That was on Thursday night, and last night (3 nights later, that is) I stuck a sterilised pin into the blister (IT'S GOING TO HURT! No, it's not honey, I promise. OWOWOW! SEE!? Oh, good grief, sit still!), applied neosporin (EEW! YUCK, WHAT IS THAT FOR?) and put on a plaster (SPIDERMAN?? I CAN'T GO TO SCHOOL WITH A SPIDERMAN PLASTER! WHAT WILL MY BUDDIES SAY!!?)

This morning, Chas improvised chords and picking all the way to school, using the un-injured fingers. He will have a marvelous and drama-filled day of showing off his finger (without plaster)to anyone who didn't see it on Friday and Saturday, and will probably make his poor music teacher suffer as he improvs his way through the music-festival test piece with three fingers.

I think Chas has science lab today too, so my boyo is going to be just shining when I pick him up this afternoon!

2 comments:

witchypoo said...

Testosterone, it often shoves genious out of the way, doesn't it?
I had a friend, a full-grown man, who stuck his fingers into the beaters of a Kitchenaide while it was going.
Tell your boy he now has something to strive for!

Nan said...

Ah, let's definitely NOT mention that to Chas! This is the kid who heard about bungy jumping and leaped out of a tree holding onto a rope...