Last Saturday we went to London to see grandparents. They had come over from New Jersey to run the London Marathon on Sunday. We thought we’d spend Saturday with them doing a bit of gentle sightseeing in London. First the British Museum where Nick, who loves mysteries, codes, and secrets was entranced by the Rosetta Stone and Juniper was fascinated by the Centaurs in the Elgin Marbles. Afterwards, we went to Russell Square, which was full of flowers and pigeons. It was perfect for coffee, cake, and ice cream.
They kids were playing happily. And then, they weren’t. Juniper had fallen awkwardly on her shoulder. When we realized it was more than the usual bump, we said our goodbyes and goodlucks and hailed a cab. And after a cab ride, a visit to A&E (Accident and Emergency), and two x-rays later, we learned that she had broken her left collarbone.
Luckily, I was able to clear my schedule so I could be with her this week. She’s stayed home 3 days and went to school for the morning on Thursday and Friday. She’s healing. We’ll go back to the fracture clinic next week for a check-up. I think she’ll be just fine. These things happen. It’s kidstuff.
One of the things I got for Juni was a box of Looney Toons DVDs. All week the kids have been laughing out loud at the antics of Bugs, Tweetie, Sylvester, and company. The Merrie Melodies theme song has been running through my mind and our house like Speedy Gonzales. At the beginning of the discs, there is a disclaimer, explaining that these cartoons contain some unfair stereotypes. It is expertly worded. I’m sure lawyers were involved in drafting the language. I understand why it’s there, but I’m not sure what I think of it. It occurs to me that this is an example of how we underestimate kids. Both as a kid and an adult I have enjoyed the wicked wit that comes with the cartoons, especially when compared with some of the more anodyne options available.
Today I collected Juni at lunch and it was raining. I brought her wellies (galoshes) and umbrella. Just before I stepped out, I decided to wear my husband’s wellies, too. When I got her, she was delighted to change out of her school shoes and step into her boots.
All the way home she marched through puddles, singing, ‘I’m going on the puddle path, the puddle path, the puddle path!’ And then, ‘Puddles begin with J, puddles begin with J!’ And then, ‘Do you want to go on the puddle path with me, mama?’
‘Yes. I’d like to go on the puddle path with you!’
And I sloshed along behind her through all the best puddles in the village.
As we turned on to our road, she turned to ask, ‘Do puddles really begin with a J?’
‘No, but jumping does. And we can jump in the puddles.’
So we did.