Once, when Andrew was three-years-old, I had been to his preschool for a Mother's Day tea. I had left so happy and full of warmth, only five minutes ago, and had just pulled into my mother's driveway to pick up Nicholas when the preschool called and said Andrew had fallen on a rickety bridge on the playground- straight onto his nose. It was bleeding profusely, possibly broken, but he was "okay." I dashed back to the school and took him to the doctor, who said at that age, the nose doesn't really break, but boy, did it look like it. Andrew eventually looked like a raccoon. Can you believe that when we got back from the doc, a one-year-old Nick walked up to Andrew's swollen, horrible nose, touched it and said, "What happened?" Of course, that started the bleeding all over.
Through the years I have gotten more calls, "Hello, Mrs. Kolp? This is the school nurse," uh-oh,
"and we have Andrew here. He fell off the monkey bars and hit his head." Or, "Mrs. Kolp," (nasal tone) "this is the school nurse. Katie is here with fever and cough." Oh, those years of asthma and recurring pneumonia were horrific. "Mrs. Kolp, this is the school nurse. We need a change of clothes. There was an accident here."
But today, the nurse's call was the most unexpected and bizarre. Just having gotten home from Disney, I was running around, trying to do laundry, grocery shop, pick up dogs (at least Pete is still on vacation, but he is not feeling well), worried about the kids who have bad colds, going through mail and e-mails and trying to catch up in my poetry group, when the phone rang at 11:15. I had to take Katie lunch at 12:15 because she was feeling bad and I wanted to check on her. I thought the call was about her, but no- it was about Nicholas. "Hello, Mrs. Kolp? This is the school nurse. Nicholas fell in a huge mud puddle and is soaked through his clothes all over his body- hair and all. You know how hard it poured yesterday and the day before (no- we were on vacation). Can you come and take Nicholas home to give him a bath and change him?" GRRR.
"Was he hurt?" I asked.
"No- just filthy."
I had no idea that Nick would be as dirty as he was, but not hurt at all (thank you Lord). I made him stand up while I drove him home and then proceeded to strip Nicholas and give him a bath from head to toe. Even his tennis shoes needed washing. I told him, "I guess this is where the dirty boy image comes from," I said. "What were you doing?"
"Going across the monkey bars," was his answer, "but then I fell."
"What did you do after you fell?"
"I was too scared to go to my teacher, but my friend did. My teacher wasn't even mad."
Of course not- who could be made at those cute cheeks and big eyes?
*I'll update more Disney from the kid's perspective next time.