With the park injury behind us and the wound beginning to heal, wouldn't you know it, Raphaela came home with an awful gash beneath her left eye, inflicted by another girl in her class known to be more aggressive than most. Apparently Raphaela was minding her own business when this girl came over and slashed her; if we were in high school I would have tell my daughter, "Oh, she is jealous of you..." or something to that effect. And in fact, the wound from this Wolverine child is deeper and even more serious than the one from the park on Shabbat.
I spoke to her teacher, who basically told me some version of "Kids will be kids" and then proceeded to assure me that Raphaela was not the instigator (because that makes me feel better how?) and that she will heal. "Thank G-d it barely missed her eye etc. etc."
Disturbed by the vicious randomness of the attack, I asked how the teacher handled the incident with the group at large, and she answered that used the opportunity to give a lecture to the entire class about proper behaviour and the ban on hitting. Then she reminded me that this is a "normal" part of the life of a toddler in nursery.
Later this morning, as I started cleaning my kitchen for Pessach, the apartment sprung a gas leak, one which was so asphyxiating that after three hours with all the doors and windows open I still could not breathe properly. So instead of finishing up my holiday chores, taking care of patients, and going on my intended shopping trip, here I am writing this blog, waiting for the gas company to arrive "sometime today..." and hopefully before Obama arrives for his brief and badly-timed visit to Israel on Wednesday.
I am most thankful, however, that this dangerous leak occurred after I took Raphaela to Gan and NOT in the middle of the night, when Raphaela and I may not have noticed it, with deadly consequences.
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