It’s been a pretty bad week for bugs and illness in the Little Z household this week. Just when we thought we all had 24 bugs we’ve unfortunately realised they are the more annoying “hang around for 4 or 5 day bugs”. Couple that with the fact that the Other half and I both seem to have permanent crappy immune systems and the results are two zombie looking 30 something’s that could make excellent extras in World War Z.
None of this has bothered Little Z in the slightest and besides a few sniffles and even more motivation to bounce on his sick Daddy’s belly as he lies down, he has thankfully been the normal little hurricane that bounds about without any kind of direction or care.
So imagine the excitement when we were forced to take him to the surgery with us. Having run of time during our slow motion shuffling to get ready, we decided there was no time to drop him off anywhere and that “he should be ok for a bit”. And he was. If you don’t count the running about without his shoes on, refusal to sit down, attempts to weigh himself on the self service BMI machine and body surfing across the surgery chairs.
Then he spotted her. The lady in the wheelchair. Having never seen a lady in a wheelchair before he stopped dead in his tracks and just observed quietly. This lady that needed extra equipment to move about, someone that couldn’t walk some or all of the time and got by using her electric wheels. He stared as she expertly maneuvered herself through the narrow gap between the chairs to the reception area. He watched as she collected a prescription and nimbly made her way back to the lift and he carried on staring as she entered the lift and disappeared from sight as the doors closed.
Then he turned to me, still slightly open mouthed, and said:
“Mummy, my want a motorbike too”.