Finger food

Noah, as I write this, your mummy and me are in tired and in bed. It is not late, but it's been a long day. This morning we took you for a long walk with a view to wearing you out so you'd have a nap in the afternoon (you are having these naps less and less recently). After we go back home, I thought I'd prepare us some lunch. Tuna, pasta salad. So I began chopping ingredients. First I sharpened the knife. Really lovely and razor sharp. Then I began making light work of the spring onions, some peppers, tomato and then the tip of my finger.

As I cut into it, I knew it was bad, However, my dilemma was that you were playing with the water in the sink and I didn't want you to become distressed, so I grabbed some tissue and held the tip on my finger whilst calling up the stairs for your mum. This little scenario was later played out to your grandma, grandad, Harvey and Oscar by your mummy only in her version I was a quivering wreck. Everyone laughed.

We chucked everything in the car and went over to grandma and grandad's to drop you off before going to the LRI. I won't go through the details but whilst we were there, my hand in a tea towel, there was an old man with a dislocated ankle and a woman in so much pain that she passed out in front of mummy. Whilst I tried to get a nurse, your mummy didn't want to touch her for fear of contracting whatever awful illness she had. Instead, she tried to wake her up by politely saying, "Hello? Hello? Wake up!"

Eventually I was seen. I was told it was a 'skin flap' rather than a 'laceration.' This meant that the overworked nurse lady needed to pop the cap off the top of my finger like a toothpaste, scrub it clean with an alcohol wipe and then pop it back on. I was elated with that news. Your mummy looked just as pleased. Now I've got to wear a stupid bandage for a week.

By the time we came to collect you, you were a little delirious and kept calling everyone an idiot.