Oh yes, the slugs in our house are a brave and fearless bunch, as these pictures testify. They* crawled all over my favourite Nuptse vest, both inside (shudder) and out.
*Okay, I admit I don't really know if it was a gang of slug vandals, or just one inquisitive slimeball, but I think 'they' sounds better. And I did feel violated.
Tuesday, January 22, 2008
January tales
The Wee Man has kept us busy this month: enchanting us and exhausting us in equal measure as he learns how to live in his little body. It's been tough to share his frustrations and be unable to step in and solve his problems in the main.
His Granny came to visit, and helped us out in all sorts of ways, for which we were all most grateful.
Last week, we were referred to the breast-feeding specialist at Southmead Hospital. Reuben was born with a small tongue-tie which had proved, over the last few weeks, a regular source of frustration for both mother and child at mealtimes. As the tissue anchoring the base of his tongue to the bottom of his mouth was preventing him from moving his tongue freely, he wasn't feeding easily. So, through the wonderful NHS, our health visitor quickly referred us to the hospital in just a few days. Although the wonders of the NHS didn't extend to convenient parking, on Friday morning we ended up in the office of the specialist who - after the briefest of brief inspections - said she would be prepared to snip the tissue right there and then.
Barely five minutes later, Reuben was swaddled and his head stabilised by an assistant. A pair of sterile scissors were produced and the specialist pried Reuben's mouth open and made two quick snips. It was over with only a drop or two of blood and a small (and rather muted) protest from the Wee Man at the fingers in his mouth. He was scooped up and returned to his mother for a feed, which was immediately noticeably improved.
His Granny came to visit, and helped us out in all sorts of ways, for which we were all most grateful.
Last week, we were referred to the breast-feeding specialist at Southmead Hospital. Reuben was born with a small tongue-tie which had proved, over the last few weeks, a regular source of frustration for both mother and child at mealtimes. As the tissue anchoring the base of his tongue to the bottom of his mouth was preventing him from moving his tongue freely, he wasn't feeding easily. So, through the wonderful NHS, our health visitor quickly referred us to the hospital in just a few days. Although the wonders of the NHS didn't extend to convenient parking, on Friday morning we ended up in the office of the specialist who - after the briefest of brief inspections - said she would be prepared to snip the tissue right there and then.
Barely five minutes later, Reuben was swaddled and his head stabilised by an assistant. A pair of sterile scissors were produced and the specialist pried Reuben's mouth open and made two quick snips. It was over with only a drop or two of blood and a small (and rather muted) protest from the Wee Man at the fingers in his mouth. He was scooped up and returned to his mother for a feed, which was immediately noticeably improved.
Tuesday, January 08, 2008
Credit where it's due?
This is a great story about what lengths we go to in order to avoid uncomfortable situations. And I love the ingenuity of children.
I never went as far as glueing my hand to a bed to get out of school, but I did try faking a fever and heating my thermometer up over my bedside lamp. As I, being only eight, had no idea of the normal temperature of the human body I ended up going (rather grumpily) to school anyway; mercifully the glass thermometer hadn't fractured during its mishandling; and (rather gracefully) my mother hadn't blinked as I registered a temperature of only 30 Centigrade.
I like to think it showed some aptitude for creative thinking and problem solving, despite the rather self-interested motive.
I never went as far as glueing my hand to a bed to get out of school, but I did try faking a fever and heating my thermometer up over my bedside lamp. As I, being only eight, had no idea of the normal temperature of the human body I ended up going (rather grumpily) to school anyway; mercifully the glass thermometer hadn't fractured during its mishandling; and (rather gracefully) my mother hadn't blinked as I registered a temperature of only 30 Centigrade.
I like to think it showed some aptitude for creative thinking and problem solving, despite the rather self-interested motive.
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