Child inflicted injuries.
Don't know if anyone has done this yet...

I was reminded of this subject this very morning. As I lay there in the delightful knowledge that I had to get up and go in to work without any guns at all (no, not bitter about the redundancy at all), I hear the patter (thumps) of tiny feet as he gallops at full tilt into 'I'm AWAAAAAAAKE' mode. Now he's a clumsy bugger at the best of times, and as I have a comprehensively knackered ankle sticking conveniently out of the bed I just know that he'll run into it causing me great hurtiness. As he charges into the room, all blonde/cute, filled with energy and remarkably offensive morning breath, I react with the speed of a rattlesnake, and retract the vulnerable swollen trotter.

Now due to the way myself and the Obergruppenfuhrer are lying (in 'pretend to be asleep' mode), I have just jerked myself out of ankle danger, and in some manner have just managed to crush my bollocks against her knee. The resulting spasm simultaneously brings my poor swollen foot into violent contact with her foot, and my nose impacts with her elbow.

I lie there whimpering, clutching at my assorted throbbing bits and wishing I was dead, listening to the sotto voce "what's wrong with Daddy?".

Scene 2.

Tescos. I'm not a great fan of the hyper-mega-corps, but I am a foodie, and as I do the majority of the cooking, I get to do the supply runs. This also means that I get to check out the Own Label Whisky (purely in the name of research, naturally).

Junior is in the built in seat thingy, being Junior. You know, grabbing bottles, insisting on being in charge of the list (as it's a Treasure Map leading to the Secret Chocolate Aisle).

She Who Must Be Ignored wanders off at random, returning with armfuls of eye-wateringly expensive preening products. While waiting for my dearly beloved to return with whatever gunk was absolutely vital this week, Junior starts to get a smidge bored. Daddy was getting incredibly fucking bored, but that's bye the bye.

Picture the scene. He leans as far forwards as he can, staring floorwards, balancing on the horizontal handle bar, and turning a fetching shade of purple. Daddy leans forward after a while to straighten him out, just as he flings his head back. KERRACK! Daddy notices the store rotating gently through 360 degrees, before observing that his nose resembles a plum tomato and his glasses are bent (titanium my arse). Mummy returns just in time to comfort Junior, who has "bumped his head sniff sniff". Git.

Scene 3 (and if you're still reading, well done)

The Park. Junior is full of the joys of spring, and as such needs a good gallop every day or he turns into a hyperactive demonchild. The expeditions includes my visiting mother, my lady pitviper, and baby daughter.

The laydees are in charge of baby, with the majority of the running around, hiding behind trees and climbing things being down to me.

So we've done Hide 'n' Seek Deathmatch, Extreme Climbing Bars, Dangerous Swing Club, Experiments with Centrifugal Force and Falling Over, and quite frankly I'm as tired as a one legged man in an arse-kicking contest. Only one obstacle remains - the wire-with-seat-thing-slung-underneath that I call a zipwire but I'll be corrected by a playground pedant I'm sure.

My wife and mother look on proudly as I scamper up and down, breathing out of my arse as I attempt to launch him into orbit. Finally, I think he's had enough, and off he hops from the seat, staggering slightly, and then headbutts me, full force, directly in the groin.

The spectators swear I left the ground, before wilting against the frame, and gasping in a shrill falsetto "keep out of that puddle", before slumping into a heap as my lungs attempt to suck in some air and I manfully ignore the lump in my throat.

Wife and mother? Loving wife and mother. Full of concern for the Love of Her Life and Mummy's Little Soldier?


Naah.

Backs turned, shoulders shaking as they cried with silent laughter, and left me to stagger after my high-speed offspring like a John Wayne clone, manfully ignoring my flattened spuds, so that they could have a proper hysterical laugh at my expense.

Even my daughter was laughing.

Gits.
(osok Rebel without a clue, Sat 19 Apr 2008, 14:30, 1 reply)

Ouchy - major major ouchy!
.
Have a sympathy *click*
(TheWeeWitch hasn't been here much recently .., Sat 19 Apr 2008, 15:18, closed)