Bad news comes in threes.

The first time, it was an accident. I rode up to our gate one monday, hopped off, and went to open the gate while supporting my bike one handed. I've done this move 192891381 times before, flawlessly... and this time, something went wrong. Maybe my blood sugar levels were low, maybe it was just a freak accident, but my bike overbalanced. It was so quick, and Willow, on her seat on the back, crashed to the concrete with the bike. The helmet protects her head, and the seat protects her body. She would have been ok- shaken, but ok- if it wasn't for her sunnies. Somehow, they managed to fall off under he head, and a raised bit on the side of them (which is what the front of the glasses attaches to) punctured her forehead. Head wounds are bleeders. She was already sobbing as I pulled her out, and leaving my bike where it fell, I ran her inside to M. He was sleeping off a night shift as I ran inside with a screaming, blood covered child. He jumped into action straight away. We tried to stop the bleeding, and eventually took her to ED since the puncture was deep and not quite scabbing over. They stuck some tape on it, to Willow's disgust. She'd been hoping they would glue it back together. She's fine. I wouldn't even been mentioning it now, if it wasn't for what happened barely a week later.

The Saturday the same week, M went out for drinks with his mates. They were crossing the road in a group when a motorbike swerved (across two lanes) to hit him, knocking him over- the best theory we have is that he was looking at M, who had stopped before crossing, to make sure he didn't run across or anything... and steered the bike towards M, since that is where he was looking.
Apparently, the cabbie behind saw the whole thing and got the motorbike's plates, but M decided to not involve the police. I was initially peeved at his decision, since I wanted this idiots blood, but I cheered up when I realised that since he's such a bad motorcyclist, he'll probably have all his blood all over the road soon enough. I've also pointed out that's what M gets for going out without me, and just imagine what would happen to you if you left me for good. M's fine- like Willow, no loss of consciousness, but he's scraped, sore and bruised (and over jokes).

Since bad news comes in threes, I'm honestly not sure where this leaves me. Reluctant to get on my bike every again, or walk anywhere, ever. Hello friend. Can I have a lift?


(Oh. I told Willow that M got run over by a motorbike, and all she asked was "Is he sleeping over at R's house? But he didn't bring his pjs!"
We told her two more times, and both times she seemed... really disinterested. Which was weird, because she's normally very solicitous of me when I'm sick. Are you not well mummy? She asks. Do you want me to get your a drink of water? Here is a toy to cuddle. Do you want anything? Do you want me to sing you a song?
Are you sick mummy? You don't have to get me out of the shower. Mark can do it.
Do you need an icepack mummy? Do you need a bandaid? There. I kiss it all better.

It could be because when she's sick, it's me who looks after her. I'm the one she wants anyway, and since M works, he can't afford to get sick, so I make him avoid Willow. If I'm sick, she sees M taking care of me, but when M's sick, I make Willow avoid him, so she's never really seen him dealing with sickness- either with her, or himself.

Or maybe, I'm her favourite parent.)