You know how in my last post I said, and I quote, “This week has seen… more blood than any person needs to see in their lifetime (that goes for you too, splatter-enthusiasts)”? Evidently I lied. Either that, or I am misinformed.
Because at lunchtime, my fifteen-year-old daughter returned home from school harmed. Her new tights ripped and her knee oozing blood. So much so, that my
nursing motherly skills were required to apply a bandage. I asked her what on earth happened and she explained that, she was again, pushed and shoved trying to leave the bus, and ended up falling right out of the stationary vehicle, onto the ground.
A few short minutes ago my son re-entered the house, he’d been outside playing football with friends and ‘got the ball in the face’. As regularly happens during ball games. At least in our family.
Cue nose bleed.
This means I have two children in bandages and one with a blood stained face and top.
I have informed the fourth child to, “Stay still!” for the remainder of the day. Or at least until Papa comes home. Though she hasn’t taken any notice. I suspect she doesn’t take me seriously.