When Life Trips You Up

So there I was at the computer yesterday, thinking it was about time for another post and planning to let you know what some of the UK's experts on obesity reckon is the best way to combat over-eating.

And then the phone goes, and it's the nursery, and my little cherub of a son has fallen and needs medical attention.  When I mentioned the need for working parents to dance, not juggle, what I should have added is that sometimes the dance speeds up and looks suspiciously like a run.

So I pelt round to the nursery and there's already an ambulance outside.  I go into 'calm on the outside, freaking out on the inside' mode.  Son is in the middle of a lot of grey-faced people; looking very stunned, with a duck's egg of a bruise on his forehead.  And that's how we ended up spending the afternoon in hospital.

However, this is the boy who was born on Friday 13th, on the 13th floor of the hospital, in the room between 12 and 14, with a sticker saying 'Room 12A' on the door (yeah, right, just call it Room 13 and be done with it).  He squares right up to misfortune and keeps going regardless.   He's 100% recovered today, even the bruise has gone.

Phew, thank goodness for that.  Will post again soon with the news from the obesity experts - it'll surprise you, I promise.  But not as much as yesterday surprised me.