Horror of horrors

As a parent, you always try to shield your children from certain experiences although when this fails, the experience usually serves as a deterrent to it happening again. Just the thought of some of them make me literally shiver.

When Joseph was smaller, he wanted to help me do some cooking and so, with him stood on a dining chair, I asked him to stir the contents of a mixing bowl but on no account should he touch the ceramic hob, which was still cooling after being on high moments before.

“This hob Dad?” he asked as he pointed at the fading red circle, pushing his finger right down on it.

There was a loud ‘hiss’, he jerked back and the smell of burnt flesh immediately hit us both, followed by what can only be described as an incredible scream and lots of tears.

In fact, it was the loudest scream he had ever achieved.

Until yesterday that is when I managed to shut his hand in the car door.

Oh boy, one of my worst fears comes true. He screamed, I felt sick and we ran indoors to run his hand under cold water and liberally apply the wonderful Arnica gel.

When the flow of tears had slowed, I asked him to squeeze my hand with his to see if he could move his fingers ok. He tried but it was a feeble effort and I was really worried. I then asked him to try to squeeze my fingers as hard as “a Ninja Turtle” could.

He almost broke my fingers, leading me to believe that he may not have been trying too hard on the first attempt.

Still, another one of those tough lessons out of the way but I think that I/he/we/ were genuinely lucky.

Let’s hope Missy’s learning curve is as kind.