At lunchtime, my 3 year old and I were playing with her new walkie-talkies. So when she screamed and started crying, I flew up the stairs to her room, to find that “the little kid has hurt her foot!”.  My daughter narrates her life in the third person, but that’s a story for another day…

After soothing her, and applying some obligatory cream, she carried on with the rest of the day, until tea time where she slipped. Knowing how much of a hypochondriac my daughter is, I sat her at the table and put her sadness down to tiredness, but after tea, she wouldn’t bear any weight on her foot.  After waiting on the phone to 111 for 10 minutes, and consulting friends, I decided to take her to a&e.  With lightening speed, they booked her in, checked her over, and sent us down to x-ray.  She was very excited about the special camera that could see her bones.  As we waited back in children’s a&e, she spotted a toy she desired, and feeling mortified, I watched her limp over to it.  We were soon called into see the nurse practitioner, who examined the x-rays and (surprise surprise) told her that it all looked OK, but would a magic bandage help?  Of course it bloody would.

After the very indulgent nurse had bandaged her leg, we were on our way.  In and out in an hour.  Three cheers for the NHS.

As we waited for my mum to pick us up (with my 2 year old in the car well after his bedtime…I think we all know he is the real champion of the story), my beautiful if dramatic daughter uttered “The little kid was very brave”.