Just in the last couple weeks Jessie has had three trips to the dentist, a flap of loose skin in her cheek, (I have to peer inside and tut-tut) –
. . slammed her finger in a drawer, needed lower back massaging and stubbed her toe. Badly.
She’s loving it.
Demands lots of attention from Dad and announces she cannot possibly go to school. “I’m in the wars, Dad”.
I agree. Take three weeks off and lie in bed, Jess, we’ll bring you your meals.
At which she sighs and demands “WHY NOT!?” as she knows that means fugeddaboudit.
But secretly she’s so chuffed at the impressive bandaging I did of her toe (binding it to the one next door) that she can’t wait to get to school to milk maximum sympathy, one school shoe, one pink slop.
Wild horses wouldn’t keep her home.