Grazed Knees.

When my children were little they used to fall over occasionally, the way toddlers do. Most mother cope, clean them up, stick a plaster on, kiss them better. Job done.

Not this mother though. I m not bad at the kissing and comforting but can’t look to do the cleaning. All that blood and dirt. Makes me very queasy. One day I hit upon a brilliant idea. I would take the child to Boots. They had sticking plasters there. So I did. A very bemused pharmacist took one look at my outstretched arm with a child at the end of it. Said child (Kasia I think but I can’t be sure) was pointing at her knee while I, coward that I am, looked the other way. The pharmacist looked me in the eye and said I don’t usually do thi you know. I expressed my undying gratitude, still without looking at said graze, while she patched my toddler up,

When we got home I told my husband how well I had dealt with the situation. He harrumphed and then proceeded to teach Kasia how to change the dressing herself. Luckily she was a quick learner.

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