The latest on Angus’ so-called strawberry mark is that it’s not a strawberry mark at all.
Instead, it’s a pyogenic granuloma and apparently we can get rid of it by applying a cream called Aldara over the course of three to four weeks.
This is tremendously good news, because I honestly cannot take anymore of the bloody drama.
Just three days ago, after a peaceful night of sleep, we woke up to find Angus lying in what looked like a pool of blood in his cot.
His bandaid had come off once again, and he had scratched it so badly that there was blood everywhere. Everywhere. There was blood on his face, on his fingers, on his clothes and on his bedsheets. There was even blood in his eyes.
And I thought the other bloody mornings were bad. This was the mother of all bloody mornings.
Luckily it was the morning daylight saving ended and we had an extra hour to clean him up before Rick had to rush off to preach at St Andrew’s Cathedral. I have never appreciated daylight saving more. If it wasn’t for daylight saving, I would have been left alone with Angus and the blood, and that would not have been any good in the very least, because I was not in a very fit mental condition.
To say I was badly traumatised by the incident would be putting it gently. Rick decided he had to take a video of it (because he is a man and that is what men do in these situations). The visual – as expected – is utterly gruesome, but even more disturbing is the loud wailing that you hear. But no, it is not Angus crying. It is me. Traumatised mummy. Who will seriously lose it if this was to occur again.
Seriously.
