Young Faris is home! Thank you to everyone for your expressions of love and concern. Even people who only know of our Little Soldier through Facebook or the Daily Blog have been happy
for us. He is, as some have said, rather like a Famous Baby.
Not quite as famous, it has to
be said, as Master George, now wowing the folk Down Under. I won’t tell Faris that he is being soundly beaten in the Famous Baby Stakes unless and until I feel he is getting Too Big for His Boots. For the moment, we are just so glad he is better
that we wouldn’t mind if he needed Seven League Boots to accommodate his famous feet. We can deny him nothing.
His Mum, the Middle of the Darling Daughters, has had the Easter Holiday From Hell. Instead of spending the last week in 5 star, all-inclusive luxury in a Cyprus hotel, she found herself on a put-you-up bed, next to a hospital cot, keeping
vigil on her little one. Constant bleeping alerting nursing staff to falling oxygen levels and two hourly administration of the nebuliser all through the day and night meant she didn’t get a lot of sleep, even if she could have magically turned
off the Worry Button for an hour or so.
Two days running, her lovely, supportive sister made
the trip to Epsom to provide much-needed support. On the second day she took with her a powerful Magic Potion – in the shape of my grand-daughter, Hazel (aka Hazel Bagel for no reason that anyone has ever been able to fathom.) I wasn’t actually
there but I have seen the photos and they have led me to the conclusion that every Children’s Hospital should have a Hospital Jester. What is more, I nominate Hazel for Chief Jester.
Here she is with Faris in the Children’s Activity Room. She is crammed into a red play telephone kiosk, baby on her knee. Here they are again, the
two of them, apparently pretending to be slithering snakes. Now she has what looks like a strange space helmet on her head – I think it just might be a toy pram. Now who would ever do that? Who would even think of doing it? Imagine the thought process
going through her head: “Ah, a plastic doll’s pram. See the wheels, and the hood and the handle. If I place this on my head, it will look like a helmet. Way to go!” Only Hazel....
Observant Nanni that I am, I can see that in every photograph Faris is clutching a small purple ball. Wherever he goes to play – be it nursery, Soft
Play or a friend’s house – he will latch onto something and refuse to let go. Many’s the toy his Mum has had to return a day or two later when he has found another Item of Interest to latch onto.
Hospitals cater so well for children these days. I well remember (how could I ever forget?) having to take Sam and James to A &
E last summer after an unfortunate accident involving an eye, a bench and a flying body. By the time we were booked in and waiting to be seen by the doctor, the Poorly One and his brother were both so totally engrossed in investigating / trying out all the
toys plentifully supplied that I had trouble persuading them to come home with me when it was time for us to leave. It would not have surprised me if, when I asked them the next day what they wanted to do, both would have chorused: “Can we go to A &
Introducing our own home-grown Hospital Jester at just the right moment definitely
cemented Our Little Soldier’s recovery. As for Hazel – Hazel, the joyful, the happy-hearted – well, she never allows surroundings to faze her. While others hate even stepping over the threshold of a hospital, she treated it as her stage and
performed like the Super Trouper she is. No wonder her baby cousin loves her so very, very much.
so do I.