As the kids would say, "Nee-Naw, Nee-Naw!" I was barely back from my lunch-break when SuperSpouse phoned to say that the primary school had phoned - to say that no.3 son had suffered a playground accident, and had a gash above his eyebrow. SuperSpouse couldn't get away from work, so he'd said that I would go to fetch the invalid.
Filled with trepidation, I dashed away - phoned the school to say that I'd be a while, then rode by underground to the car-park, then a speedy dash along the M8, imaginary blue light flashing furiously. I was visualising an afternoon spent at Yorkhill Casualty, and hoping he wasn't concussed into the bargain. I made it in 40 minutes - actually, quite an amazing feat.
There was my tear-stained little boy, longing for his Mummy to come and get him. But - wait! Where was the gash above the eyebrow? Not a bruise to be seen. A head-injury with no outward symptoms?
Aha, I see. A little toe-rag swung his jacket at no.3 son, and the zip made a tiny cut in his scalp. He was scared to put his hand there and find blood. I don't like the sound of this other child. Whenever something nasty happens, he always seems to have been there.
Anyway, my boy was happy to be taken home. "What took you so long?", he demanded. Ah, the innocence of youth!
During my lunch-break, I'd actually had a stress-busting Indian head-massage. I didn't get the chance to feel the benefits! However, after our evening meal, and any number of extraneous interruptions, I sat down with a cup of tea. And slept for a solid three hours.
(The image comes from Staffordshire School Libraries. As a librarian myself, I'm happy to acknowledge their great cartoon!)