So, Hugh loves his bath and he has just learned to pull out the plug. Ah well, I thought, he shall learn a new association: no plug, no water. The simple poetry of learning. No plug, no water? No woman, no cry. That sort of thing. Only this time we both learned something new - fingers down the plughole for half a second, big cry. When he pulled them out, he had nasty cut. Ouch and How the frig?!
Cue me getting all panicky as the blood dripped into the bath and spotted on to the white towel. I scooped him up and he smeared it on his face and generally all-over-the-place, like a convincing audition for Casualty (I never watch it anymore but I can imagine). Oh, my wee boy!
But it was okay in the end. We got the necessary bandage - I phoned Devoted Grandparents and they came with some gauze and white tape and we made a cartoon finger bandage, that looked was better and more fitting than the soggy plasters that were still looking too red for comfort.
Phew and double Phew. Hugh then got all excited and smiley for the unexpected ceremony of bath time visitors and ministerings. So, kids, today's Sesame Street lesson is ...beware of plugholes. Sometimes baddies might be lurking down there, after all. No need to go poking around, just in case.