This is the story.
Hubby, who is new to this "full time dad with 4 kids under 10 years old" game and not quite used to having to all the morning school run, was very pleased that this particular morning all the kids were breakfasted, washed, and dressed, ready for school by 8 am. A full 40 minutes before they have to head out the door to school. So he thought he would jump in the shower himself (fatal..... always wait until the kids are all at school!) Within moments Tom was coming up the stairs whinging that George had done Blah Blah and Blah (clearly getting him side of the story in first) so Hubby pulls back the shower curtain... and sees George standing there, blood pouring out of his face and his once yellow school shirt now crimson. Turns out George bit his tongue rather badly as a result of Tom punching him in the face.
One bollocking later and Tom is ushered out of the way and George has been cleaned up. Hubby marches them down to school, and then thinks to mention to the teacher about George and his bitten tongue. George stickes out his tongue, forked like a snakes, and waggles it in a very proud fashion. Teacher gets in a bit of a flap and they end up at the school reception with the first aider who says "yeah.... that's a hospital job" and off to A&E they go.
This is the first time we have ever had to take one of our kids to A&E. In 9 years of parenthood. It's a good record I think.
Anyway, up at the hospital they look at George's tongue and decide it needs stitching up. Only, because he is only 5, they want to give him a general anaesthetic and can't do that until after 13:30. Bugger.... Fred needs picking up at 11:45. Hubby calls my Mum in the hope that she can pick Fred up but she can't because she's working. That's when he called me.
So work kindly let me go. I bomb home and collect Fred an hour late. Then pick the others up after school. Poor Daddy and George are still at the hospital waiting. The 13:30 list for things like sewing tongues together has been cancelled and now they have to wait until after 17:30. At 18:30 Jack is supposed to be taking park in the Swimming Gala for school. So I pack up the three kids I have - wracked with guilt for not being at the hospital with George but as the only driver in the family I have to ferry everyone else about - and head off to the sports centre. Hubby is left with instructions to call me is ANYTHING happens. I know it's all safe but the thought of one of my babies have a general without be being there with them made my blood cold.
Hubby calls just as Jack gets in the pool for his swim. They are on their way home. They gave up waiting for someone to knock George out and gave him a local instead. He hated it (understandable) but was super super brave and didn't even cry. He has 5 stitches in his tongue, and it's too sore to eat his pizza. He just wanted to go to bed (although playing with Daddy in the children's ward all day had been a fantastic adventure for him).
George was almost asleep when we got home, but awake enough to have a massive cuddle with Mummy and told how brave he was and how loved he was.
Jack's school came 4th in the Gala by the way.
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