We decided to go to Scone Palace (Pronounced "Scoon" not scone as in the pastry) because they were having a Halloween ghost/history tour of the grounds. We didn't tell the kids where we going, only that they should get their costumes, and a surprise would be in store.
The weather was beautiful; cool, breezy and gorgeous sunshine. We were quite relieved really as it had blown a scary gale last night with pouring rain. The first thing I saw were a pair of albino peacocks walking near the parking lot. The palace as several peacocks on the grounds, but the white ones were new to us. they were just as brave as the others though and in no time were nudging hands for treats.
We'd arrived just before the 11:00 and to quick get the girls into their costumes and join the group for the ghost tour. Sassy-face was beyond excited, all high animation and big smiles. When we were ready, she bolted for the gates. "Don't run!" I shouted, as she was in a parking lot, but undeterred she ran on, right for the blocked gate and WHAM! I watched her face hit the metal bar, her feet fly up from under her and she landed hard on her back. We ran over and I watched her spit teeth. All we could think was "OH Fuck! My Baby!" and we both ran to her just as she realized what had happened and burst into tears. She quickly became hysterical when she figured out her tooth was broken. I did what every mother would do, I picked her up; my eight year old, no longer light as a feather baby and was going to carry her to the picnic tables nearby to calm her down. Just as I was about to lift her, I put my foot in the wrong place and lost the lower half of my leg down the cattle grid.
To say it hurt was an understatement, but by this time the adrenaline was surging through all of us, so with a "For Fuck's sake!" I pulled my leg out, picked up my hysterical baby and fast-walked her to a seat. Lots of hugs, lots of kisses, close looks: Not too bad, just the bottom of the left front tooth was sheared off, but no blood, no root exposed, not even a fat lip. She must have been smiling as she was running, and she says she never saw the bar. Her neck was fine, her back was fine, no sign of concussion. WHEW! (Is it wrong that I picked up the bits of spat out tooth and pocketed them?)My leg was a bit sore, but just a couple of scratches on each side, I'd just walk it off.
And undeterred, with a bit of a whimper and a lot of "Don't worry, we'll call the dentist in the morning." supportive hugs "You're still beautiful." "Just looks like the tooth is growing in still, darling. Not noticeable at all." We joined the group on the ghost walk only missing a little bit. We had a lovely time with the ghost tour, and it was fun. Death (A teenager in goth boots and a black cape and balaclava) walked up to Sassy and tapped her on the shoulder, and she just looked back at him, even though she'd been told she would be turned to stone if she did...brave kid. Shorty proceeded to stare intently at my shoulder as I held her; she was taking no chances at looking at Death.
After the tour, which ended with a mini-movie, dunking ("Dookin'") for apples and eating treacle scones off bits of string with arms held behind the back, we had a wander around the grounds on our own. A nice walk through the pinetum in search of warblers and pretty cones. The ground was a bit boggy, and they must have had the gales and rain like we did the night before. Just on our way to check out the new young trees I said to shorty "Stop!" in a firm voice as she was about to walk through a grass covered puddle. Now stop in a firm voice almost always works, as this a most obliging kid, but not today. Today stop meant run. And she ran into the puddle and almost like deja vu the feet flipped out from under her and she landed flat on her back. In a cold, muddy puddle. "I'm Soaking!" She cried and I read her the riot act as I walked her to the nearest bench to redress her in dry clothes. I still carry a spare outfit, just in case.
Three strikes. We decided not to risk Husband's luck and made our way to the car to get home. Once at the car I decided to look at my leg, as it was getting a wee bit sore now. On lifting my trouser leg up, I saw the biggest bruise I've ever had in my life. Almost the size of my hand and was raised on the inside of my calf and getting hot. I laughed. What else can I do? Bag of frozen peas when I get home.
So far, Husband remains unharmed. The stress of watching his girls get hurt and soaked have done enough for his stress levels to warrant we all get one more day of vacation tomorrow. But that can't be arranged. So I bought cake instead. Cake heals a lot of wounds.
No pictures of the broken tooth allowed (I asked, she says no) but here's the beginnings of a gorgeous bruise. I'll update the colours tomorrow. The big one looks a bit like a butterfly, and the small one on the other side shows my leg fell right up to the knee. I'm very lucky I didn't break my leg. (And yes, I have chicken skin, shut up.)