Mornings took getting used to once I started work. Dickson does the pick up and I do the drop off of the kids. As a result, Dickson leaves earlier than usual for work to be able to leave earlier than usual for picking up. This leaves me getting the kids up and getting us all out of the house in time. No matter if it’s summer holidays or school in session, everyone has to be in their respective places by 9am. Activities start for Franklin’s camps by 9am, Eliza’s routines are in full swing at daycare by 9am and I have a daily meeting with my assistant that starts at 9am.
It’s not a huge hardship, really. Dickson is an early riser so by the time he leaves, lunches are packed and breakfast is ready. The man is a saint – an organized saint. If his body decides not to decompose after death, I will petition the pope to name him St. Anal Retentive but So Very Wonderfully Retentive. It’s only fair.
Yesterday morning, like many of the mornings now, was going smoothly. Dickson was up, bathed and downstairs. Franklin was up and eating breakfast/playing with lego. Then I got up, drank my coffee, got everything in the correct packs and everything signed and prepared. Eliza woke up, decided to put on her own diaper (me do!) and ate breakfast. We left in good time with all the lights off and all the dishes… um… in the sink, at least…?
So we had officially started the day. We were on our way – walking, strollering and scootering to Franklin’s camp and then on to Eliza’s daycare and then on to my work. It was 8:05am. Plenty of time.
Plenty of time to… race down the sidewalk, hold our breath as we wheeled over the odd coloured sidewalk squares, spot all the rabbits, wave to the university maintenance buggies, and try new tricks on our scooter.
Try new tricks on our scooter that ended up in a nasty crash mid parking lot.
Franklin’s had many crashes and yet, I’ve never seen this much blood. It wasn’t a particularly large scrape but blood all over his leg, all over the sidewalk and all over my hands.
I was prepared!
Much like my father and his packing of a half litre jar of antibiotics, rubber gloves and sterile strips in my pack before I went to Europe; the stroller had antiseptic wipes, betadine and band aids of every size and shape.
He was okay. Eliza was concerned but Franklin managed a smile and hopped back up on his scooter so she was pretty good by the time we got to her daycare. Through all of that? I was 5 minutes late. Only 5 minutes.
After work, Franklin showed me how his bandaid had come off during swimming and the scab had formed well. He was laying down talking about about something else when Eliza came up to him and pointed (poked) (hard) into his knee and said “ow?”. So then it started,
Franklin: “Ow! Eliza! Gentle!”
Eliza: “ow?” (poke poke)
Me: “ow, but be gentle with Franklin”
Franklin: “Ay! Ow!”
Me: “ow” (now I’m holding her hand and showing her what we mean by gentle)
and on and on.
By the end of the evening Eliza would point at her own knee and woefully explain with a pained expression, “Ow! ooooooh, Ow!”
Guess who has a bandaid on her knee this morning?
Anything to be just like her brother.