It’s our wedding anniversary today, and I haven’t gotten anything for Grumpy.
It’s our seventh, which is apparently ‘wool’ or ‘copper’. Think I’ll nick out when I get a minute and purchase something woolly or coppery.
Like, um, a pair of socks?
He didn’t forget though!
But I was saved, ish, by Godzilla who, after swimming lessons, came home with angry red spots up his arm and a grazed and swollen foot.
There’s chicken pox doing the rounds, but he’s been immunised and they don’t look like chicken pox. They don’t look like bites either.
I ring the doctors’ surgery to see if I can get an appointment for as soon as possible. Whilst Godzilla is bouncing around in the background, singing loudly.
Get him booked in in the afternoon, which means the school pick-up run includes trying to explain to a tantruming Monkey Boy why he can’t play with his friends after school today.
Godzilla falls asleep in my arms, and 23 seconds later we’re called in to see the doctor, who looks at me, concerned, standing there with a comatose three year old in my arms.
I show him the spots and he mentions the words ‘looks like hives’, then show him the swollen foot, and the word ‘bite’ emerges from his lips.
At this point Godzilla awakes, and begins scratching as his now shoeless, but still swollen foot. The doctor mentions he’ll ‘just put something on that’ to stop him from scratching, leaves the room, returns with a huge roll and bandage and proceeds to wrap Godzilla’s foot.
From the knee down!!
And then, as he’s looking at me right in the eyes, begins using words like ‘spider bite’, ‘swelling’, ‘allergic reactions’ and ‘anaphylaxis’.
Not words I particularly want to hear at this point in time.
Godzilla is now screaming full tilt, complaining of a sore foot and asking me to remove the bandage, as we leave the surgery to the doctors words, which, above the screaming I was unable to fully get, but parts of which were ‘swelling around lips or tongue’, ’emergency department’ and ‘call an ambulance immediately!’
Nope. Grumpy did not forget about our anniversary. On the way home he asks “So, do you still want to go out for dinner, or should we call the babysitter and cancel her?”
Is this a trick question?
Of course I still want to go out for dinner!! I think to myself