I have just given the kids lunch and raced out to Mat's shed to write today's blog. Today is just not going my way...actually, more to the point, today is not going Elliott's way, which means my day is even more difficult than need be.
You are all well aware that Elliott is the most accident prone child in Australia, possibly even the world (chances are high!) and I have noticed a gradual shift in the way I tend to him when he hurts himself. Originally, I would scoop him straight up and shower him with love, cuddles and kisses to try and make him feel better. I would whisper little hushes in his ear and tell him reassuringly that he will be OK. Then I noticed my response shifted more towards picking him and dusting him off and telling him that he'll be fine. Then came the words "toughen up chief" and finally my exasperated response of "how on Earth do you manage it Elliott?!?" Well today, I am in a whole new realm of responding that makes me seem like an uncaring cow...but seriously, I am over it. The constant interruption to my day as I have to respond to his endless injuries is driving me a little mad. I have only just hung out the first load of washing and it is lunch time! So my new response seems to be a little more like this...
Elliott was swinging on his swing and somehow managed to lean forward far enough that he was hanging by his stomach over the seatbelt chain. I threw down the crowbar that I was using to dig up one of the dogs bones (which strongly resembled an entire cows limb) and promptly rescued poor Elliott. I gave him some cuddles and asked him how on Earth he managed it. He then moved on to riding his bike and somehow managed to ride backwards into a pile of metal Mat has against the side of the house to build a pergola "one day". Naturally, Elliott found the pointiest corner of the metal and gave himself a little puncture wound on his shoulder. By this stage, I just got a little frustrated with the poor guy and after a quick kiss and cuddle, I told him to go and stand in middle of the flipping yard so he would stop hurting himself! He didn't go and knowing my luck, he would have found a green ants nest and been covered in bites for sure! The last straw came when I was taping up the pointy metal thing that he had hurt his back on (I taped blue tack and paper towel over the corner with enough packaging tape to move house!). I was taking the tape back inside and hear an awful scream. I race back outside and see Elliott has fallen backwards off his bike and hit his head on the only bit of concrete in the whole yard, which is less than one square metre in size! I scooped him up and just started ranting. I put him inside and gave him soft baby toys to play with and ranted and raved some more about how he has to stop hurting himself (like he does it on purpose) and that I am sick of the fussing!
On and on I went and then had a light bulb moment...he is 1. He has no idea what I am saying and what I am saying would have no affect even if he could understand me. Poor little thing, I think I need to review my response systems again and alter them slightly.
I better go inside because no doubt he's chocked on his egg sandwich or somehow severed a limb. Knowing Elliott, anything is possible!
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