So when we come to pick up H at the nursery and a member of staff takes us aside and needs to tell us what has happened before we see Little H, we’re calm as cucumbers. What is the worst that can happen? As long as she is not pulling other kids hair or giving them bruises, a bit of “self-harming” can only make her stronger.
Little H is now an expert (she thinks) at walking the stairs, and since her mantra these days are “I can do it myself / klare selv”, and due to her robust nature we let her climb up and down while we watch her with ice in our tummies.
The other day she fell down the front door stairs. It is only two steps down, but they’re made of concrete and stone with gravel at the bottom. I did not see it happen, but heard Little H cry, and it was not a pretend-to-be-hurt cry as it usually is. It was more of an I-am-in-pain-and -shock cry.
I was the first on the scene and swiftly picked her up from the ground. I started scanning her body for outwards injuries and what I found was some scratches from the stones and a rather nasty cut on her temple. She was bleeding, but rather quickly soothed by all the attention she got from myself and her grandparents.
I cleansed her cut with cottonwool and water and soon she was very into cleaning it herself and the cries of pain had transferred into the moany sniffering she can be so good at. All clear.
When we got back out in the drive-way, Amama Socco was stamping her ballerina shoe clad feet on the place where H fell and saying: “Malo, malo, malo, malo (malo = bad/ naughty)” to the gravel. It was rather like a native American rain-dance for me unknown to such a ritual. Little H quickly got into the game of blaming the stairs and the gravel by shouting the same: Malo, malo over and over again.
So apparently it was not H’s clumsy feet which caused her to fall, but the stairs and the gravel. It now gives her great satisfaction of stamping her feet and repeating malo every time she enters or leaves the house.
|Malo gravel and nasty stairs|