Shut up you mental patient

While Husband was sitting with Sprog 1 at the medical centre on Sunday night, holding her head together, he sent me an SMS:

HUSBAND: Sprog 1 wanted to say hello and tell you she was feeling ok

I was busy recording the medical emergency for the blog and missed the next SMS, which followed in quick succession and read:

HUSBAND: Rexicoricofalapatorius

Now, if I’d have noticed the second message (a Doctor Who reference and Sprog 1’s all-time favourite word) I’d have realized Husband had handed his phone to Sprog 1 so she could amuse herself – and say hello in her own special way – while she waited to get her head stitched back together. But I was off in my own bloggy world. So I just replied with:

ME: Give her a hug from me, and nonna – who is giving her 50 dollars for treats on her holiday

A reply came swiftly back:

HUSBAND: How much would she get if she broke her arm?

I naturally presumed I was talking to smart-arse Husband and became quite confused when he added the following postscript:

HUSBAND:  Clom [another Doctor Who reference]

Husband isn’t quite the Doctor Who obsessive that his wife and first-born are, so I was perplexed. But I decided to let it go and simply replied:

ME: Nonna was giving money before injury

HUSBAND: oooh

HUSBAND: Dalek

At this point I started questioning Husband’s sanity:

ME: Have you been stealing drugs from the medical centre?

HUSBAND: Yes

ME: Dill

HUSBAND: Max Capricorn

HUSBAND: Doctor Who override

ME: Shut up you mental patient

HUSBAND: No

ME: Bug your poor concussed daughter instead.

But, as it turns out, my poor concussed daughter was bugging me. And I’d just told her to “shut up you mental patient” Ooops. I’ve since apologized for asking whether she was on drugs, suggesting she was mentally ill and telling her to shut up.

The poor pet has a Frankenstein’s monster-style stitched wound on the back of her head. But in true Sprog 1 style she’s being incredibly stoic about it, despite having electronic insults being hurled by her mother. She just smiles wanly and takes her medicine/endures the Betadine dabbing.

Ah, I had so many plans for this week. I was going to get ahead. Instead I will be tending to Sprog 1’s wound (I thought Sprog 2 – the non-stoic one – was going to faint or vomit when she saw it yesterday afternoon), entertaining the Sprogs on Wednesday during the all-day teacher’s strike (I’m thinking Brave and yum cha), then minding Sprog 1 during her Thursday athletics carnival since I don’t see much point in her attending with a cracked head.

Sigh.

The things we do for love. And teachers.