Dogs do not drink apple juice

Its been a busy day, you know when it gets to 4 pm and you fantasize about just getting the kids into bed, that was me after the school run today.

However while my back was turned Elliot decided it would be fun to add to mummy's burdens for the day.

He snuck into the fridge and got hold of the apple juice, sadly I only turned around in time to see him emptying the last drops of a full carton of juice into the dogs water bowl!

Now I am not an expert, but I am pretty sure that dogs like water not juice. To make it worse the bowl filled up very quickly and most of the juice was over the floor and mats. How many days is it exactly before he stops being a toddler and grows some sense?

Good news, bad news

So I have been a lazy little blogger of late, but bear with me while I try to get back on blogger track:

I thought I might spend a few days sharing my mummy highs and mummy lows with you, lets start with the bad news:

Imagine all 6 of us sitting and enjoying a nice picnic at a very civilised National Trust property, all is calm and quiet. Then the screaming begins, little Elliot has fallen off a toy trailer being pulled by his sister. He stands there in shock as a huge stream of blood is let loose from his nose in front of many picnicking families.

Well we shove a bottle in to calm him down so I can stem the flow and check the damage, then after about 5 seconds he is happy again and off to explore with bottle in mouth and now slowly bleeding nose. Considering its a good idea to stay calm to slow the blood flow I thought just letting him have a little space seemed like a good idea. Bad idea he promptly falls over his dad's legs splits his lip open and starts his nose again.

Then we have a screaming baby, a split teat ( so no bottle), and both a mouth and nose streaming blood. Why did no one ever tell me how much fun it is being a mum!

Now the good bit of the day:

This may sound like a little thing, but it made me smile. Ali had brought a punnet of cherries as they are one of my favourites. Obviously being expensive we rarely buy them and certainly never really give them to the kids. So it was lovely to see all of the kids descending on them like a pack of ravenous birds. The only stumbling block being trying to explain to them how to get the stone out of the middle. It always gives me pleasure to see them enjoying food, good, good ,good.

Seriously!!!!!!!!

So Elliot has the chicken pox at the moment, well let me tell you a story about Sunday.

We had headed down to the New Forest to get Aidan from his Cub camp and could not find anywhere at all to have lunch. It got to about half one and we finally a found a place that could just about squeeze us in.

Lovely place, I really enjoyed my liver and bacon, but about half way through the meal Elliot started to scream like some demented banshee (Just for reference this continued pretty much none stop until about 4pm the next day). Anyway we got Aidan and I quickly realised that Elliot wasn't using his right arm.

My immediate thought was, well I won't say what it was as it involves a very large proportion of swear words, no that's a lie it was all swear words. Well at about 8 months Elliot had pulled out his elbow, it hurt him like you would not believe but the Gp quickly popped it back in for him. Sadly I immediately knew that he had managed this feat yet again.

So off I headed to A and E, two hours after arrival ( and a dose of calpol for him) I decided that the screaming was now going beyond the level that any sane person could be expected to bear. So I headed to ask for more painkillers for him, luckily a lovely Nurse tried to pop his elbow back in, now imagine your hurting elbow being viciously twisted back into place with the full might of an adult behind the twisting, well Elliot's screams matched what you would imagine.

Sadly she couldn't hear the click and he was to tired to play ball, so the only option was to head home and wait to see if he started using it the next day. We get home I spend 3 hours working and a ridiculous amount of time sorting the kids stuff for the next day. Then after a night of no sleep he was clearly in pain still and not using his arm.

Then to add insult to injury I strip him off and find that the two dodgy spots had turned into a full blown case of chicken pox, now surely a pulled elbow and the chicken pox is not a fair combination for any kid to have to cope with.

Luckily we got to see the doc and through the day his arm improved, so it had indeed gone back in, phew, so I guess that at least was some good news.

Poxy poxy chicken pox

So I seem to have unintentionally infected half of the local toddler population with chicken pox, opps. Elliot came out in some very suspicious looking spots of Saturday and Sunday, and by Monday it was very clear that it was the dreaded ( or not so dreaded) pox.

Then I start hearing one by one from mums that come to my toddler group, and it quickly becomes apparent that lots of the little darlings also have the pox. I do have to admit to feeling a little guilty about this, but I am not sure you can feel guilty about something that you had completely no control over.

You have to admire the pox at least a little bit, they come in under the radar infect the kid and then make them a walking source to infect others, but cleverly give off no signs of their existence for the first 2 or 3 days when they are highly infectious, the cunning little pests.

Elliot's spots have come in a slightly strange way with just one at a time popping up about every 12 hours or so, he now has them dotted all over, but luckily still not too bad, but you have to feel sorry for the little man having a pox spot on the end of his willy and also on his tongue. He does look like a very unhealthy and slightly odd dot to dot project, actually it might be fun to take a biro and join all the spots.

I am a great fan of prevention, so a visit to the pharmacist and £15 later he has spent the last 4 days drugged up to the eyeballs. Its particularly fun smothering him in calamine lotion after his bath, the girls have a great thrill that I seem to be painting their brother white for some bizarre reason.

I know pox can be very serious, but I am very glad to be getting through the horrid episodes, no more pox for this house, whoop whoop. Aidan, Alex, Cat and Elliot have all now been poxed up and hopefully now have the immunity to fight of any future pox sneak attacks.

I know that about 10% of people get the pox again, sometimes many times, but I am hanging on to the blind optimism that all of mine now have super immunity and will never face the discomfort and annoyance that the pox brings with it.

So yes it sucks that Elliot is poorly, but thank you pox for getting all my kids infected and sorted at such an early age, in a few days we will say goodbye to the pox forever in our household, its not been hugely nice knowing you Mr Pox, but it certainly is nice to be seeing the back of you.

Why create toddlers and then give them a mind of their own?

Surely if you are going to include a stage in human development that includes being a toddler, then why oh why would you also give the psychotic toddlers minds of their own!

Typical toddler behaviour seems to include:

Eating anything that is small enough to fit into ones mouth or that is soft enough to take a chunk out of ( in Elliot's case this includes a red nose he managed to get his hands on).

Touching anything and everything possible, I can not even begin to list the number of things he has grabbed or got hold of that he either has the potential to break or that has the potential to hurt him.

Running with no regard to ones own ability to actually run or any common sense about the safety of running in whatever direction they are going. Elliot has only just started to walk, so why does he think he can now run.

Climbing on anything its possible to climb on, and then promptly falling off generally straight onto his head.

Escaping at every opportunity possible, this can be escaping from me, his pushchair, highchair or even the bath if the mood takes him.

Pinching, grabbing or pulling at any living thing that is unlucky enough to get within reach, at the moment Elliot's very favourite is pulling hair and seeing how long he can hang on and listen to the screaming from his sisters.

Now giving a small child these abilities with no common sense or sense of danger is stupid enough, but why compound the situation. Is this not bad enough, apparently no, he also needs his own mind, so we add to the above tantrums, screaming and getting very angry when he can't have what he wants, from going into the car seat, to refusing to let him play with knives, to trying to stop him destroying things, everything now is a running battle.

Its exhausting chasing a toddler all day long, so why add the screaming, wailing and gnashing of teeth anger and despair that takes place when he can't get his own way.

self feeding toddler aka the slime monster

 

I am getting on a bit now, so bare with my very old cultural references. I swear that as soon as my lad feeds himself he immediately takes on a striking resemblance to the Blob from the 1980s horror movie remake.

Its like there is a human being in there somewhere, but its hard to identify it under the piles of slime, yoghurt and other food items that he has liberally applied to his skin, clothes and hair.

I thought pancake day was a low point when he decided to clean the plate ( covered in maple syrup and blueberries) with his face, hands and hair. Yes his hair, what on earth would possess someone to take a filthy sticky plate, to tip it upside down and to then rub it on their head, I do wonder if he is a little bit mental.

Its not a great photo, but if you are wondering, that is indeed maple syrup dripping down his forehead.

Anyway each day he ends the day with a little self feeding ( he does finger foods in the day, but I keep the spoon and mess attempt to the end of the day). I estimate that

about 70% of the yoghurt ends up on his body or clothes,
about 10% on the floor, chair and table,
about 5% is left on various spoons as he scoops it out chucks the spoon away and requests another spoon
about 5% is snuck into the dogs mouth while I am not looking,
about 10% remains in/ on the mutilated pot
and less than  0.000000001% makes its way into his mouth.

Oh well, this stage won't last forever, I am sure he will have slightly better skills and manners by the time he is about 18 or so.

Pre-requisites to being a parent - part 1

You would think that the only requirements to being a parent is to have the necessary bits, to use these for some fun, then baddabing 9 months later you are a mummy or a daddy.

However I think it should be way more complicated than that:

Requirement number 1 - A hatred of sleep.
not just a hatred of sleep, but some kind of super power that enables you to live on about 4 hours of sleep every year. In the last 10 years since becoming a mummy I must have had next to no whole nights of sleep. We get one kid sorted and then the next has some issue, ill health or general desire to wake me up in the middle of the night, and that's not even counting the sleepless nights due to pregnancy and all the gross and painful symptoms that come with it.

Requirement number 2 - A liking for cold, reheated or generally pre sucked food.
I love that my kids like their food, but could they not just leave my plate alone, or at least give me a few seconds to actually eat before screaming and requiring my attention.

Requirement number 3 - A desire to look (and smell) like a person who has never washed either themselves or their clothes.
Starting with baby sick, the progressing nicely to mashed ( but very colourful) food, and then on to paint or any type of messy play items. These items do not look good in your hair, on your skin or covering your clothes, and especially not down your back when you have no idea that it is there.

Requirement number 4 - A liking of constantly being judged or told what to do.

I think parenting is one of the only areas of life where the world and his wife feel that they have the right to tut at you or generally send completely unrequested advice your way. You have to have a pretty thick skin to be a parent.

Requirement number 5 - A wish to spend hours doing minor tasks, that prior to children took mere minutes.
Once upon a time it took 5 minutes to go to the shop, this now takes several hours, many bribes, lots of screaming, and the equivalent effort that it would take to climb Everest.

This is our progress....

This is our progress - the story of a new walker.

If I park at the school for the school run it once took me less than 5 minutes to get from the car to the classroom door. Sadly those days are now gone , the culprit for this change is Elliot the brand spanking new toddler.

He has realised he can practice his walking outside, and by jolly is he going to do it at every opportunity, irrespective of what I say...

We get out of the car and I attempt to force him into the buggy, his response to this idea, if he could talk the response would be a simple...."go jump".

He takes those few seconds to find his balance and then he is off.

Sadly in the wrong direction, once he is turned around he immediately does a deviation onto the grass to look at the fence.

I offer my finger to hold and head back towards the path, but what does he spy, the most amazing thing ever, yes its a stick. Several sticks later, some are handed to me, some he holds onto and some he just tries to chew, now we are off again....

Nope strike that he has spotted something even more astounding, yes its dead leaves, wow, again these are examined, consideration is given towards eating them, then many many individual leaves are passed back to me.

By this point I am slowly losing the will to live, and I am tempted to tuck him under my arm like a rugby ball and just make a run for it towards the school door.

We are off again, only this time yet again in the wrong direction, now we are back at the car where we started, so we head off again. This time he stays on task, until he sees a little brick shed housing some gas workings. This little building really really has to be touched and looked at.

Again we are off, but now we have railings, each one it seems needs a cuddle, to be touched for a very long time and then they clearly need to be licked.

This is the point where I snap, promise him he can walk around the playground while grabbing him and running towards the door to his utter disgust and protest.

Am I really the only one who lacks the patience for toddler walking. I know its a thrill that he can walk, I know the world is one big adventure to him, and he does look as cute as can be, but please please please can we get some speed or urgency or even just forward motion into the walking.

conjunctivitis, urgggghhhhhh

Who would have thought that a little eye infection can be so bloody annoying and so ridiculously painful.

Last week Elliot had a touch of conjunctivitis, poor little fella. So we visit the GP who says she won't prescribe anything until he has had it for 7 to 10 days, but I can buy the drops for him over the counter ( if I lie that he is over 2).

I spend several days telling the other kids to stay away from Elliot's face and eyes, and washing his eyes every 5 seconds.

After getting rid of it and feeling a little smug I was not impressed on Friday when my eyes started to itch. By Friday night I was a oozing squinting, pink eyed monster. First thing Cat says to me on Saturday morning ( while I am trying to pretend that no one will notice) is " mummy why have you got one big eye and one tiny red eye". Cheers Cat that really helped me in deluding myself that it was not obvious.

There have been times when I would willingly have poked out my own eyes. During the night I won't gross you out with a detailed description of the dry, snot covered eyes I fight all night long.

Why oh why oh why do kids share the things we don't want. I would happily share their chocolate or their large stash of cash, but no the only thing they give me is bloody infectious diseases, cheers.

Kicking your brother in the head, not a good idea after the week I have had

So far this week I have been informed that I may be about to be made redundant, and if I still do have a job I will have to spend the next 3 months fighting for it through a series of interviews and other such fun activities.

I have been going through that time of the month, which is never a good thing with all my gynae issues.

I have had to put up with freezing my arse of every time I step outside the house, and freezing my arse of whilst working in the house. I will give you a hint I do not like freezing my arse off.

I have completed 2 months of 3 kids birthdays, Christmas, a toddler group party for 50 kids, and then a birthday party for 40 kids, I think this gives me the right to feel like a bit of a grump. I spent over an hour wrapping well over 40 layers on 4 pass the parcel presents, and that does not even begin with the help I gave Santa wrapping presents and the wrapping for the kids birthdays. I have the coordination of slug, so I am not good at the wrapping thing.

I am losing weight, so I even feel guilty about a good old bit of comfort eating.

The dog has taken to weeing on the hall floor at ever chance she gets, cleaning or walking through this while in a rush is not my idea of fun.

So today what happened after 6 hours of work ( and before starting 3 hours more), after dropping off 3 kids at school, and 1 at the child minder ( and all the preparation that involves),after making a very lovely but time consuming beef stew with veg,  then picking most of the kids up, but having to wait an hour for drama club to finish for Alex. Well I was breathing a sigh of relief with home in my sights. I get all the kids in the car, and turn to answer another mums question. I turn back and all hell has broken loose in the car. For some bizarre over tired reason Alex decided to kick Aidan in the head.

Now I have a loud voice ( from a childhood of calling in the cow's for my dad to milk), so imagine the volume and extent of the telling off Alex promptly received, this was accompanied by her brothers load sobs and upset, her sister asking inane questions and her baby brother screaming.

It is not a good idea to do something so ridiculously silly when I am already fed up. So Alex for future reference do not kick your brother in the head, you are not the Karate kid, or any other Ninja type person.

I have a dream...

I have a dream, and in this dream is a world where:

I can go to the toilet and actually do my business without a child coming in to have a chat or a cuddle. Who on earth likes to cuddle and chat to someone while they are taking a massive dump, surely this is just weird.

Just for once I can make a cup of tea and drink the bloody thing before it has reached room temperature. Pouring that hot water into the cup is almost a signal to somebody in the house that they must immediately shout me at full volume.

Bums are wiped by anyone but me. I am happy to wipe my own butt, don't get me wrong I am not that lazy. However having a baby who needs regular bum area attention, and two girls who love to holler on a regular basis "mummy come wipe my bum", will the day ever come when I go for a whole day without having to see someone else's backside.

7 am is not the signal that I must be out of bed and immediately start tending to other people's needs no matter how tired, ill or hung over I am.

I can eat a meal or snack without little hands sneaking onto the plate to steal the best bits, or little voices requesting "mummy please can I have some of yours", or pleading little eyes making me feel guilty for eating my own food.

I can wear items of clothing such as jeans or tops for more than one day before they need to be scrubbed in bleach and sterilized. How can four children manage to cover me in more crap, food, dirt, dribble, wee, and general debris than they actually get on themselves.

Going to get a forgotten pint of milk involves me jumping in the car, and returning with said milk 5 minutes later. Instead of the current 15 minutes to round the kids up, 10 minutes getting their coats on, 5 minutes strapping them all into the car seats, 5 minutes getting the actual milk, 10 minutes getting their shoes off, and then 15 minutes persuading them to put their coats and shoes away.

Where my laundry pile is lower than the ceiling height, and contains no items with smears of poo that are likely to catch me off guard.

I have a dream, and one day I hope for that dream to become a reality (maybe in about 16 years time)

Is it wrong to pull a 1 year olds teeth out

Whom in their infinite wisdom made babies ( with their limited understanding), and then decided to add to these slightly thick little dudes the most sharp and vicious teeth ever created.

I think I may cry if Elliot sinks his teeth into me again, or takes a bite while I am checking his new teeth.

Elliot is an amazing little man and I certainly don't wish him any harm, however why is he allowed a dangerous weapon to hand at all times, surely he should have some kind of licence for those things. If he carried a knife or had a razor blade I am sure someone would soon ask questions. However he has these razor sharp perfect little inflictors of pain, and no one wonders if its a good idea.

I guess they need teeth, but why can't evolution just get rid of teething, and skip to a full set of shiny white teeth at an age when they are responsible enough. Maybe they could have them delivered in the post as a 5th birthday present, when they have the sense to brush them, and also the empathy to not sink them into any other human beings.

I know the advice for a biting toddler, a firm calm no and put them down away from you. That's all good, but how the heck do you control the yelp of pain or the full on swearing fit that is a natural response to a sneaky little bite. I think its even worse that it usually accompanies a nice cuddle or excited little action, so they lull you into feeling relaxed and happy before they strike.

I don't think I am exaggerating in comparing it to a mini shark sneaking up on you and promptly without warning taking a bite of any delicate bit they can get hold of.

So broken nights when he is screaming in pain, not eating his food as his mouth just hurts too much, dribbling and being constantly soaked, getting into trouble for biting, all of this against just not having teeth, let me think which option I would prefer.

What git decided that!

I am well and truly fed up with having massive bumps and bruises half way down the front of my thighs. Have I been drinking too much and falling down the stairs, maybe I have been doing some exciting dangerous sport, or possibly the kids have been giving me a good kicking.

Nope I have to say that the cause of my injury is those nasty sneaky stair gates. Every now and again I walk whack bang straight into the corner of the open stair gate. This hurts more than seems proportional to the actual injury, and the bruise always seems to come up so much bigger than you would expect for a little bump.

Did some evil mum hating person sit down at their computer to actually calculate the average height of a mum, and then spend a long time working out the ideal height for a stair gate to cause the most injury.

Do you think I can sue the person that first set the standard height for stair gates?

Poo part 3, yes there is more, sorry - top 10 poo mysteries

Some poo mysteries:

How is it possible that my children can produce poo that is actually bigger than they are, is there some kind of Dr Who tardis thing going on in there intestines?

Why is it that babies know that they are having nappy off time and promptly decide to deposit a large pile of stool directly onto the floor?

How is it possible that babies time their nappy explosions for the exact second that you are in a rush and trying to get out of the house, leaving that dilemma of be late and change, or pretend you haven't noticed for 10 minutes and ignore other peoples noses wrinkling as they get a whiff when you walk by?

Who thought it was a good idea to design people with their butts on the back, making it impossible for children to wipe properly, so you can be guaranteed plenty of skid mark teeny pants?

Is it worse to have a boy, and to have to fish for poo around their boy bits, or is a girl worse and the futile attempts to keep the poo away from their lady bits when cleaning them up?

Who decided that leaking up the back is a fair thing when they have a runny bum, you clean them up, you get excited that their clothes are clean, then on closer inspection you find the mass leakage heading up towards their neck?

Is potty training not hard enough with wee to deal with, how cruel is it to add poo to this huge challenge, for crying out loud, why?

If you have ever had a toddler that goes through a poo smearing stage, ( we have been through this once and never again please please please I beg), this is beyond gross. Imagine finding poo on the walls, floor, curtains, bedding and liberally coated on the toddler. Why the hell do toddlers sometimes think its fun to play with poo, surely the smell alone should put them off?

Not exactly poo, but how can children fart and make stenches that would kill a horse, surely this bubbling inside their little tummies should make them actually explode?

Not a person poo one, but why do kids make a beeline and seem to walk straight through any cow poo or dog poo left on the ground?

None of this rubbish odd steps, get a move on boy

I don't want to wish this time away, but I do want the little man to get a shifty on with his walking, come on boy move it., here are some of the reasons why:

* No longer having to cart his big butt around constantly either side saddle, in the sling or in the buggy.

* Having hands free to actually do exciting things such as do up his siblings coats.

* Stopping the struggling for ideas of what the hell to do to keep him entertained. Can't leave him in the buggy all day, can't plonk him on the floor when out, half the time the house floor is not exactly clean enough for crawling, and don't even get me started on the filth on the floors in most toddler group/ community centres.

* Get some use out of his little shoes that I spent a fortune on, rather than them acting as expensive foot warmers only.

* Have the joy of walking along holding his little hand.

* Chucking wellies on him and watching how filthy he can get in lovely puddles and mud.

* Currently I hold his siblings down so he can crawl on them, pull at their faces and generally dribble on them ( they love it really honest), once he can move he will be able to catch them himself.

* Turning him into my little slave, nothing better than saying "child get me this, do that, take this there... and so on", its hard to do this if they can't even walk.

* Going to a park and having more options than just chucking him in the baby swing for ten minutes.

Finally  - giving him more freedom, so when he has nappy free time he will be able to spread the wee and poo accidents even further faster ( strike this one off, I clearly have gone bonkers)

Why babies and dogs don't mix - top 10

This is our first time having a baby and dogs at the same time, so its certainly been an experience. Each day we vary between deciding to put the dogs or the baby in the bin, depending on which has been the biggest pain in the arse.

The combination of the two can be a challenge, it can be daunting and sometimes its just gross, so here are my top 10 reasons not to have dogs and a baby in the same house:

1 Dogs roll in the most foul smelling badger and fox shit you can ever imagine, baby immediately touches and strokes dogs as soon as in the house, hence stroking the big patches of smeared shit.

2 Dog biscuits and dry food rolls off  across the floor and hides in any corner available, baby then finds these are cheerfully munches on them for a while, yuk why would you think putting those in your mouth is a good idea.

3 There is nothing babies and toddlers like more than water, so in those seconds when you turn you back baby is at the bog water bowl converting it into an indoor paddling pool, not only is this gross, but it also soaks the floor and baby.

4 There is a huge temptation in hanging off of a dogs ears or tails, and dogs don't like this!

5 The dogs love begging at the table, we all ignore them, whereas baby has great joy in holding out his food and squealing with joy when they eat out of his hand, then screaming like a man wronged when told no, don't feed the dogs.

6 Baby slings are great, I love mine, but its not exactly practical when you need to bend to scoop the dog poop ( unless you want to drop baby out directly into the aforementioned poop).

7  Having a clingy baby and trying to multi task opening and scooping out stinky dog food tins, while holding baby and trying to prevent baby from getting a big handful of food to chow down on.

8 Our garden was once lovely, but is now a minefield of dog poop. Poop here there and everywhere.

9 Trying to hang onto a buggy and a dog lead, the potential for tangling, tripping, dropping lead, or decapitating baby if lead cuts across buggy is high.

10 Walking dogs in freezing cold, soaking wet and heat wave conditions, while baby has to sit in  buggy to either cook or freeze his arse off

Some of my top parenting cock ups

I think its hard for us mums to admit that we make mistakes, or that our parenting is not perfect. Well, I can not lie sometimes as a mummy I get it spot on right, sometimes I sadly don't. I certainly sometimes do things that would make my health visitors hair stand on end.

So here is some of my top naughty parenting moments:

1 - On birthdays and special occasions we toast with a little bucks fizz. I will first tell you how my daughter relates this event to people "I drank to much alcohol and was very sick". I can hear the call being made to social services, ring ring. In actual fact she had a teeny amount, the bubbles set her off coughing and she promptly puked everywhere, nice.

2- One morning about 2 and a bit years ago I entered Caitlin's bedroom to find what looked like a murder massacre scene. After some investigation I found a cut over an inch long under her chin, which explained all the blood. She still has a very large scar, but luckily its exactly along her chin line, so generally its invisible in everyday life. However from that day to this I do not have even a clue how she did it, there was nothing in the room that could possibly have injured her in that way. My guess is she climbed in the window jumped down and split her chin on a solid surface, but as she was only a toddler at the time this would have been an impressive feat.

3- Elliot is a nightmare crawling and getting into everything. I am not a neurotic mum, and I do tend to be on the grubby side of clean. In fact I think a few germs are good for the kids immunity. Elliot seems to agree and can regularly be found munching on a dog biscuit after rooting it out from some invisible corner.

4-  Aidan came home one day moaning that his friend had sat on his finger. In general Aidan is tough and does not moan unless in real pain. I had a look and it certainly looked sore. At home he was drugged up to stop the pain, and I said we would see how his hand was over night and in the morning. He slept like an angel, woke in the morning with only a mild discomfort. So I checked his hand to find his finger had ballooned up to a phenomenal size. At A and E they diagnosed a buckle fracture and strapped it, as they felt it was on the brink of breaking. Turns out he had his finger down a slat and his friends had piled on the bench, twisting and then buckling the bone in his finger.

This is just part one, I am sure there are more that I will remember and more cock ups that will happen in the near future.