OK - I was going to post this tomorrow, but a few people have expressed concern over my 7 yr old's condition! This is the follow up to Rainy Days...Part I - View that here. In Part II, we have just arrived at the hospital...
On arrival at the hospital, all is well. My 7 year old has a lump on his forehead the size of Ayres Rock, but he's lucid and showing no signs of any other distress. He can remember vital information. This is good. He is eating. Also good. I ask about a possible CAT scan anyway (as most kids, he's had a number of falls, and to be honest, I wouldn't mind finding out if everything is ok up there!), but am told if he presents no further problems, it's best to skip it. It's a heck of a lot of radiation, I'm told. Nice. He is kept in for 4 hours observation. After an hour, I take the littlies home. The last thing the pediatric ward needs is a couple of lunatics running around creating as much noise as possible.
The following day, the rain continues. We stay inside and make best of the situation. The 2 year old's bed is put together, much to the sounds of his protests. Once the frame is built, and before the slats are put in place, he suggests to Hubby, who is busily tightening the bolts, that his cot be placed in the middle of the frame. Desperate times...
Meanwhile, the boys create a "shop" - in the kitchen. They commence to try and sell Hubby and I food - from our pantry. I have no plans to hand over any cash, but Hubby does. (He pays $2.50 for 3 jellybeans. Ripped off.)
The day progresses quite well, considering we're all experiencing a little bit of cabin fever and have started the day late (daylight saving has commenced the night before. We're instantly an hour behind with everything). When Hubby comments that the boys are still in their pyjamas at 4pm, I advise that there's no point changing them now, and it unofficially becomes "pyjama day". Later, when Hubby suggests taking them for a quick walk to the park with the dog as a break in the weather presents itself, I shake my head in protest. "What? And dress them now? I don't want to waste clean clothes!" Bad Mummy.
The rest of the evening goes well. Our 2 year old, joined by his brothers in his new bed for a story, who compliment him over and over again about his fantastic new dinosaur quilt cover, decides sleeping in the big bed might be alright, and after only one request for a drink of water (a record for him) he promptly falls asleep. Bliss.
The big boys head off to bed. Hubby watches "The Shield" on DVD, and I read. A biography, of course.
The following day, the weather is clearer to begin with, but we're all too tired to do anything. I have no idea why. We haven't exactly been overexerting ourselves lately! We do get dressed though. This is an accomplishment. The boys continue to run their (incredibly overpriced) shop, which has now become a cafe as well. The 2 year old, having discovered he can just get out of bed if he wants to, has to be coaxed a number of times to lie down for his afternoon sleep. One time, he is caught popping his head out of his bedroom door, the next he is found sitting on his floor watching "Maisy" on a portable DVD player that he has put on himself.
A home-cooked Indian feast follows that evening, and all are in bed without fuss. And then Hubby, brushing his teeth before bed, hears a trickling sound coming from the dining room. The dog has obviously found it too cold to head out to relieve himself, and has chosen the leg of the dining table as a satisfactory substitute for the backyard. A mad dash to contain the spread of the watery substance ensues, along with the discovery that the bleach has been depleted. Hubby madly tries to rinse out as much as he can from the empty bottle, and I suggest the spray bottle with both bleach and water as a substitute. All is cleaned up, crises averted, and the day is done.
And it's only Day 3...