holy moly, but there's a ton of snow out there. And it's still falling.
The Man is out there right now, heroically shovelling the walk and steps (third time today), and trying to dig out my car. I have a steaming mug of tea and a hunk of white chocolate, and I'm off to my bed - where I doubtless will find the Toddles, determinedly hunkered down for the duration. Sweet kid, that one, and very very territorial in his sleeping habits. Want my mummy! Want my mummy's bed! I go sleep in mummy's bed! WAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!
Sigh. Nice kid. Good tactical sense of volume.
With luck, tomorrow will be a snow day. Which means that on a day when shabbat arrives at what? 3.55 or the like? I will not have to spend two precious pre-sabbath hours schlepping in a car. And, with luck, the closed school will camouflage nicely that the Eldest isn't going to school tomorrow regardless. The poor kid slipped in the snow today, and now has a nice muscle bleed going in his right ankle. And this is on a day when he had clotting oomph in his system, too. Oh, well.
It was almost comic, watching the child decide how he felt about this state of affairs. Here's how it went:
Eldest, wiggling his foot: ouch. (considers this, and finds himself surprised and offended) ouch!
Parent: does that hurt?
Eldest, still offended: yes!
Parent, mildly: hmm. Maybe we should keep an eye on that.
Eldest, realizing that the parent is considering the possibility of a bleed: oh, but it doesn't hurt now. It's fine. See?
The Eldest performs a small jig on the ankle, thereby proving beyond a doubt that no way, no how does he need to go to the ER. The parent, unaware that an ER run is being considered, is relieved and turns back to the dinner dishes.
Eldest, tucking his feet under him: ouch. Ouch?? (shifts position rapidly to relieve ankle)
Parent: hmmm? Still sore?
Eldest, looking for a way out: oh, no. See?
Attempts jig, finds that ankle is too painful, seeks other way to escape and fails.
Eldest: ouch, ouch, ouch, ouch
Parent: yep. Time for factor.
Eventually, the Eldest realizes that there will be dosing, but there will be no hiring of the dog-sled that we'd need to get to the ER. (There really is quite a bit of snow.) He shifts from anxiety about the bleed and the potential seriousness of the ER run, to being offended by the lack of ER. He's remembered at this point that he is admired and vastly entertained at the ER, and is now feeling shortchanged by this whole treating at home business.
Eldest: oh, no! Now my big toe hurts - so we have to go to the ER, right?
The parent who didn't escape fast enough now has to explain to the Eldest, for the seventeenth time, that in fact we poor mortals can manage this at home, with help via telephone. The Eldest, looking disgusted and bereft and somewhat pained (all at once), will manage a dramatic exit that sucessfully expresses all of this, despite lacking a door or even any real mobility. The parent will applaud. Silently.
Close curtain, time for bed. 'Night, all!