A Sunday Night Out..

The Kid was becoming warmer and more upset by the minute. I grabbed the change bag, wrapped myself up and went out into the blizzard. It was difficult to drive in; it was dark, icy, and when the clouds of snow hurled round and hit the windscreen I could hardly see.

We made it in the end, through gritted teeth and grim determination we pulled up outside Heartlands and went into A&E. The nice lady behind reception was so lovely; she sympathised with The Kid and pointed us in the direction of the children's area.

The Kid usually would have got up and played, but he refused to budge from my lap. After about half an hour a couple of nurses came to assess him. They were great; they blew bubbles to keep him entertained while checking him over, looking at pulse, temperature and general alertness.

After they'd ascertained that his condition wasn't life threatening they explained that I'd be best to go to the Badger Centre next door, and that there was about an hour wait.

I looked at The Kid. He buried his face in my chest and started coughing hopelessly. I looked at the nurses and told them I'd definitely wait. With that I carried him next door to the Badger Centre, checked in with the receptionist and sat down.

It was then that the transformation happened.

I had been sat down about ten seconds before he suddenly perked up. He slid down from my lap and ran off. He ran in and out of the chairs and up and down in front of the reception. He kept making a break for the automatic doors and the freezing snowstorm outside. He provided a great source of entertainment for the nurses - not for me though. I could barely keep up with the little beggar as he went hell for leather around the place, trying to burst into every side room he could find.

I sporadically managed to contain him enough to sit him on my lap for a few minutes at a time - when this happened I got talking to another couple waiting to take their own poorly baby into be seen. I asked what was wrong with him. They said he'd had a cough and temperature. "Is he your first?" I asked. "Yup." They replied.

Ah. Thought so. First time parents. I'd already mentally diagnosed their poorly boy with a virus and decided the doctor was going to send them away with no course of action.

A few years parenting experience teaches you the kinds of things that doctors treat and what they don't. After you've raised one child past toddler years you can tell when something is treatable, and when you just need to stay at home and administer Calpol and cuddles.

They'll learn, I thought sympathetically. I smiled inwardly, congratulating myself on my knowledge of child illnesses.

Eventually a doctor popped out of one of the side rooms and called for The Kid. I have to say I was more than a bit embarrassed to have to follow The Kid into the room as he went marching in at top speed. We took our seats and she asked what was wrong with him. Not a fat lot, I was forced to admit as he wriggled off my lap and wandered off round the room in search of all things sharp and breakable.

Trying to tell a doctor your child is desperately ill while he or she happily rummages about is quite a difficult thing to do. I told her about his temperature, loss of appetite, pulling at his ear and cough. I pinned him on my lap while she looked at him.

She was incredibly thorough and careful. She took so long I started to get worried. What was wrong with him? Why had she gone quiet? That's it. He must have some strange baby disease, from Peru or Outer Mongolia. The only cure would be buried deep in a rain forest somewhere, I could sense it.

She looked at me.. "Well, he's got.." she began.
"Yes?" I prompted, nervously.
"He's got..."
"Yes??"
"He's got.."
" YES??!"
"A cold."
"A cold." I repeated.
"A cold." She affirmed. "Nothing we can do for him here. Wrap him up and keep up with the paracetomol."

I looked down at The Kid out of the corner of my eye. He looked up at me, grinned heartily, then filled his nappy.

It would appear then that congratulating myself on being such an expert and experienced parent was a bit premature. Although I have done the toddler years once before it seems I am no closer to being able to separate a cold from an ear infection or a virus from tonsillitis. I shall in future leave the doctoring to the doctors and not be so quick to judge other parents when they do what they think is best for their child. I'll also never underestimate a child's ability to make an amazing recovery in the space ten seconds. Which is of course a good thing... I just wish he'd have done it before we were sat in a hospital waiting room.