After a rather long day, I rushed back home to read to my daughter about giant demonic woodlice, and then watch some motorcycling.
We had been watching all the races this year, until we went to Seattle at the start of our Great American Wedding Tour, and then with my wife being eleven or twelve time zones away from me, we didn’t watch any more until we were reunited in Singapore. Now we’re trying to catch up, watching a race that took place two and a half months’ ago.
It was a good race; the lead swapped around quite a few times, and although there were some moments where a crash seemed inevitable, nobody flew off into the gravel. La Serpiente Aquatica Negra was asleep until about five laps in, when she woke and started howling. Perhaps she wanted to see young men in tight leather riding round in circles. I didn’t want her to be so influenced so early in her life, so I rocked her back and forth and made whooshing noises for eight minutes, until she relented from klaxon mode and went back to sleep.
I’m glad she went to sleep. Yesterday she was very happy to see me, and a lot of that was demonstrated by hitting me in the nuts. My dear little blonde contraceptive.
I did wander around the office today, wondering why everything hurt so much, until I realised what she’d been up to, at which point I felt like an idiot again. A bit like the surprising number of people who consult Facebook for urgent medical advice, when it should be abundantly obvious that they should go to hospital. "It hurts when my daughter hits me in the nuts – is that normal?" – the solution is probably for your daughter to stop hitting you in the nuts.
Although don’t take my word for it, I’m not a medical professional.