My son, 4 year old Connor, seems to be on a mission to keep alive the Celtic belief that bad things happen in threes.
Following his regular Saturday swimming lesson, Connor was playing in the toddlers pool. The game of the day was jumping towards the edge of the pool, using his kick board as a chest plate, so that when he hit the water a wave would splash out over the edge and get me wet. All went swimmingly (cheap pun) well until he jumped a little too close to the edge and landed his chin on the edge of the pool. A gush of blood ensued, and after 5 minutes calming down time we found a 1cm gash under his chin. Trip one to the hospital for a couple of stitches.
Mid-afternoon I get a call at work from Connors’ daycare center. Connor has run straight into a metal column supporting the outdoor covered area. Not too bad, a lump over his right eye and a sore head. Here’s the kicker though, 5 minutes after hitting his head he has a convulsion and loses consciousness. Now that’s scary! Another trip to the hospital for a check up, and the possibility of further tests being required.
Another mid-afternoon call from daycare. This time Connor has bitten his tongue. So what, we all bite our tongues at sometime. Only Connor has really bitten his tongue, just check out the photo taken in the hospital waiting room. Another trip to the hospital, this time to be admitted for emergency micro surgery to prevent speech impediments in later life. Six hours waiting for surgery, another two hours in recovery, then home to start on a mostly liquid diet for the next week.
So there you have it, three weeks of injuries. With another long holiday weekend about to start I’m keeping my fingers crossed that three is the magic number.