Poor little mite just had her MMR jab. This time, it was me on vaccine duty so I trotted off to the health clinic. Previously it was always Cat who had to deal with the jabs and I was spared the ear-piercing howl of Aimee’s cries when she is injected. Actually, it wasn’t too bad. I think Aimee had a better inkling though as she kept looking nervously at the syringe-wielding nurse.
There was a hitch however. Due to our rather scant (read: non-existent) personal filing system, both Cat and I cannot find the red book of vaccine records – a vital booklet logging each jab and weight measurement. This meant a dispute with the health staff who say she did not get a pneumococcal jab last time and me and Cat thinking she did. We better find that book damn soon.
At least my trip to the clinic was accompanied by a gaggle of other mums in the waiting room all commenting on how lovely Aimee is. Unfortunately, jealousy can be a bitter pill and as one nice young mum went to pick up Aimee for a friendly cuddle, her own toddler screamed in hysterics and then, after he got his way, walked over to a confused Aimee and blatantly pushed her over. Luckily, Aimee landed on her bum, not her head (like last time in the bookshop when an evil boy pushed Aimee over and she banged her head real hard). Kids can be really nasty sometimes. It reminds me of a story my friend Volker told me of his toddler daughter happily playing one day in the nursery sandpit and one toddler boy (it’s always a boy isn’t it?) threw a fistful of sand into her eyes. It took hours of saline washes to clear the grit and weeks of eye drops to clear the resulting infection. Talk about dangerous pit bulls, there should be a law banning dangerous toddlers!
Mind you, Daddy here is not free of blame from Aimee knocks - they say accidents happen in three's and last night, I was looking after Aimee and let her run around with a plastic binder spine in her mouth. The inevitable happened and she walked into a wall so the long spine impaled into her upper palate. Cue: a bit of bleeding, lots of crying and a very guilty Dad. Later that evening, I was bathing her, as I normally do, and stuck a toy sucker frog to the wall of the bath. As Aimee pulled hard to get the frog, she smacked her forehead on the bath enamel. Cue - same scenario. Then, finally, before bed, a slightly befuddled Aimee was tearing around the hallway as she normally does, but then simply ran into the wall head first...BANG! Cue: oh you know the rest.
Despite all this, Aimee is actually ok although her red marked forehead does look suspiciously nasty. Oops. Bad Dad.
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