I rang my GP last week to discuss some damage Louie had caused me about three weeks ago.
I’d held off calling them because I didn’t want to have to open the conversation with, ‘My 18-month-old hurt my arm’.
That sounds a little pathetic.
Anyway, I finally decided to bite the bullet and check in with them.
To their credit they were very understanding.
The receptionist and doctor managed to keep their sniggering firmly under control.
I half expected them to tell me to stop wasting their time and let them get on with the important business of seeing and treating genuine patients.
I wouldn’t have blamed them if they had.
That said, the GP probably had a good laugh with his family when he got home that night. Surely they must discuss the more comical cases with their nearest and dearest.
He was very patient throughout our consultation though and advised me to keep an eye on it and get back in touch if things don’t improve.
Well it hasn’t improved, so I will be back in touch, sadly for him.
The incident itself arrived without warning and occurred one morning when my guard was down.
I was on the sofa, kicking back a little – as much as you can with a non-stop child.
I was enjoying a coffee and some much-needed recuperation when I remember looking up to see live wire Louie merrily pulling DVDs from drawers that didn’t hold any of his actual toys.
I felt fairly safe at that point.
Then, no more than 30 seconds later, he’d brought over his wooden toy hammer and whacked it over my wrist while I was looking in the other direction.
The initial pain was almost unbearable.
In fact, ‘whacked’ doesn’t do justice to the level of agony.
I couldn’t feel my hand for 10 minutes.
Louie didn’t know whether to laugh or look concerned.
I think he could tell by my grimace that it wasn’t funny and that he might have just done something he shouldn’t.
I don’t mind when he smashes it against his toy workbench. He can do that as much as he likes.
I just hope he now knows that we and the dogs, who don’t get off lightly either, aren’t also his workbench.
AT LEAST LOUIS HASN’T GOT HOLD OF ANY PAINT
If you’re ever having a day where your child seems to be wrecking everything in sight, please spare a thought for Charlotte Wilson from London.
Her story will remind you that things could be an awful lot worse than a minor bit of Crayon on the wallpaper.
Her tale of woe has certainly helped comfort me when I think of some of Louie’s past moments of low-level destruction. And there’s a little bit of schadenfreude there too.
The mother-of- four briefly popped into the garden to fill up the paddling pool.
After a few minutes she returned indoors and was met with a scene which resembled an explosion in a paint factory.
Charlotte’s dear offspring had smeared blue paint on almost every wall, door, window, carpet and item they could get their hands on.
After some huffing and puffing, she eventually saw the funny side but, if I’m honest, I think it would take me a while to laugh at that one.
Thankfully Louie is three little people short of being able to cause quite as much havoc.
However, 25 per cent of what Charlotte faced would be more than enough for me.