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One Step Closer to the Edge



Róisín lives in county Wicklow and has three children, the Tall one, the Middle one and the Toddler

My toddler is 2 years old and is the child that we have deemed Most Likely to be Incarcerated. Don’t get me wrong, he’s drop dead gorgeous and very squishable. But James Dean ain’t got nothing on this kid. He’s like this handsome little fearless house demolisher who runs through our home hell bent on terror. He also bites the dogs (yes, you heard that the right way around. He, the baby, bites the dogs, the animals) and they are terrified of him. Let’s not talk about the cat (he’s in the house somewhere but he’s just too afraid to come out).

Do we discipline Babs? Absolutely. He’s just .. two. And a high energy child that’s going to run rings around me for life, however our recent trip to the A&E was a new one on me.

Basically, in his vast 2 year old wisdom, he stuck a piece of jagged granite up his right nostril and it lodged. Immediately unimpressed, the screaming started. Now, usually I just take a moment to assess the situation calmly and could see no visible issue until I remembered the previous week where he was making the same face having shoved a coco pop up there. That was an easy enough (if gross) fix, however this was no coco pop my friends and it soon became really damn clear we were going to A&E when the blood came.

Its amazing the speed parents have when needed. Breaking red lights, Schumachering it around the back roads to get to the closest hospital. By no means did I think this was too serious, but a screaming bloody toddler will make any parent break red lights to get him fixed. By the time we got there Babs was roaring but not bleeding, and the staff were kind enough to see him but ultimately decided he had to go to the kid’s hospital as it had bled etc.. not right tools there, blah blah blah.


So, we sped off again… aaaand into the A&E of one of Dublin’s busiest hospitals.

The next 4 hours included stealing another child’s chicken Mcnuggets, watching Frozen on repeat (because, I mean, we’ve just not had enough Frozen in the last few years) at least three solid escape attempts (think Usain Bolt and you’ve got the idea) with me fleeing after him down the hospital corridors much to the orderly’s amusement, screaming blue murder when another child took the ONE and only toy left for kids in the waiting room and then finally when it hit 10:30pm when he was well and truly exhausted, he began his re-enactment of the Exorcist.

It took 4 hours and approx two minutes with a pincers to retrieve the granite from the sticky, hot, wailing, wet faced mess of a baby. 4 hours, two minutes with a pincers, two packets of vending machine crisps, stolen Mcnuggets, a tenner in parking fees and a small stuffed teddy they handed him as he left which he then threw in the nurse’s kind face.

As I tucked him into his cot just before midnight I noticed a clutched picture book in his paw, deftly clung onto from the waiting room. I had to pull it from the grubby little fingers as I slid the covers over him, refusing to release it even in sleep.

One small step closer to incarceration, I thought, and collapsed into bed.

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