This weekend I entered the world of Clown Town – a massive, indoor adventure playground for kids where weirdly there are no clowns… Arriving there at 10.00 am on a Saturday morning is always a worrying start to the weekend, but the big rotter had been invited to a double party, so it had to be done. All went well for the first hour, kids were playing happily, parents were chatting and drinking coffee and then things started to go downhill. First, the big rotter bent back her big toe and got burns on her elbows from the slide. Then, the little rotter managed to twist her knee in the over four’s play area – I should have been keeping a closer eye on her (bad parenting). Her knee swelled up like a tennis ball and we made a dramatic exit out of Clown Town, swearing never to return again. The little rotter spent the rest of the day sitting on the sofa with frozen peas around her knee, looking forlorn and asking for medicine. Strawberry medicine was correctly administered via a syringe (good parenting), and not by a normal teaspoon as was the subject of much debate from a recent study published in the International Journal of Clinical Practice. The study revealed that teaspoons have occupied a homely, if risky, niche between kitchen and medicine cabinet as teaspoons can vary in capacity from 2.5ml to 7.3ml, so a child could easily be given too much, or too little, medicine.
The following day, the little rotter was in genuine pain and shuffled round the house on her bum, or asked to be carried around the house to strategic vantage points. More strawberry medicine was administered. Then came the dragging of the leg. Ridden with guilt at not supervising her properly at Clown Town, I thought it best that she stayed off nursery for a day to rest her leg. I resurrected her buggy from the garden shed this morning and pushed her to the big rotter’s school. She acted like a celebrity geriatric, waving from her buggy to the lollipop lady and the white van drivers that stopped for her at the zebra crossing. I was starting to think that maybe she could have gone to nursery after all. Back at home we lay on the sofa together as she rubbed her leg. Then I asked if she could manage a walk to the sweet shop at the end of our road. Her little eyes lit up and off she went to the front door and walked all the way down the road and back for a foam snake – her favourite treat. There will be no more clowning around in our house and the little rotter will definitely be going to nursery tomorrow!