Silence is not Golden, but clear and sticky…

There are few things that can make a parent’s heart stop cold such as the sudden silence of a child that is out of sight…

I was on the receiving end of one of those moments on Monday night. We were having supper and the Terrorist had finished before us, the parental units, and he was set free from his high chair to play in his room.

Ever keeping an ear open to the goings on, we were gently lulled by noise of the Terrorist scratching in his toy box, when caught up in conversation we realised that it had suddenly gone quiet.  Too Quiet.  This is not the type of situation where you sit and debate who is going, you get up and run, cell phone in hand ready to dial the ambulance because you are definitely not going to like what you find.

He did not disappoint.

The terrorist, who should now be renamed to the trapeze artist, somehow managed to sail over the half metre of air between his rocking chair and bassinette, whereupon he promptly started climbing up on the shelves against the wall, to get to the highest of the three where we keep the waterless hand-sanitizer. There he was beaming and giggling to himself <the alcohol in the sanitizer perhaps?>, half emptied open bottle of sanitizer in the mouth, my hairbrush in his one hand and busily brushing his ‘gel’ into his hair.

My husband’s initial response was “Why is there hand sanitizer in his bedroom?” “Uhm, because sometimes it isn’t possible, although you may very well like to, have a bath after changing a soiled nappy”.

We were not sure whether he had drunk the contents of the now-empty bottle, or whether it had all gone into his hair. Once we had mopped up the sticfky remnants on the bassinette and what was around his mouth we decided that we had accounted for all the sanitizer and seeing as it tastes so bitter and he is the first the spit out anything that can be remotely associated with Buscopan, we can rest at ease that he didn’t drink any. We did however make him brush his teeth. Twice.

Made me think how very grateful I am that I have not yet moved him over to a “big” bed yet, and that for now, he remains behind bars (so to speak). I think it is safer for all concerned.