Listen, if I reach the end of my tether before the rest of you, do you want me to send you a postcard?
I’ve stripped him down and inspected him from all angles and glory be, Finley does not have chicken pox.
Yes the lower half of his body is covered in spots and yes they do look suspiciously blistery, but dear little Nursery Nurse they are not pox but the result of you, Darling, allowing him to help himself to a piece of toast last week.
Oh yes, Finley’s nursery have informed me that they take their breaks at the same time as the children have theirs and thus, they are not always there to make sure that my celiac ridden son doesn’t help himself to food likely to make him extremely ill.
Can you believe that? Two year olds eating apples and grapes and the forbidden fruit that is toast all by themselves?? With no-one watching to make sure they don’t choke, because this you over anxious Mothers encourages independance??
And so it came to pass that last Monday, when I thought my ears might just pop off the side of my head, nursery rang to say that Finley had been extremely ill and did we think it could have anything to do with the quarter round of wholewheat toast he had stole off Elliots plate?
We brought him home and nursed away the trauma of vomiting (he’s irrationally frightened by it: are your kids the same?) and my Mum cuddled him back to life and then in between feeling like dying and wanting to pull my hair out, I changed seventeen stinking horrible yellow nappies everyday for the next four days for my listless pot bellied little boy. Everytime a new nappy went on the stench of celiac poo would fill the room and off we’d go again. It was hell.
In between we phoned Ofstead who said the nursery was out of order and we took our findings to the owner of the nursery who said she was sorry but toys had to be put away and her girls needed a rest and yes she would guarantee that somebody would sit next to Finley whenever there was food around, but she didn’t see the need to apologise because she simply hadn’t realised the gravity of the situation.
I was too ill to argue. So we went home and over the weekend Finley came back to life and the trauma passed and in our infinite wisdom we sent Finley to nursery again today, while I took up the task of securing him a place at the local montessori nursery.
And yet again we get a phone call: please come and collect Finley, he has chickenpox.
So as you know I kind of freaked out, ran to the school, brought him home only to find that the spots they are convinced are pox are actually the result of the shock of wheat in his little body and are the common after effects of a celiac episode for poor little Finn.
So panic over. Sorry for worrying you Ladies!