Medical meltdown no 3

Today's lunch gave us another huge dose of pre-requisite Intense Parental Emotion, but it will unfortunately be filed in the "bad mother" category forever...

We had taken Krusty's colleague out for lunch at Peking Garden, so that he could get a taste of yummy Chinese food. All was going well, for some reason the super typhoon we had been promised for the weekend had brought beautiful sunshine instead, and we happily chatted about said colleagues own children as Oscar sat quietly on my lap, chewing away on my necklace and proving why he is the world's cutest baby. I was on my best wifey behaviour, trying desperately to show that Krusty had good judgment and good taste, since he had chosen me. This fragile house of cards that I was building was soon to come tumbling down.

Mr colleague explained why, as he has a four-year-old and a fifteen-month old child, he has to be extra vigilant about which toys the youngest picks up. I went on to pretentiously boast about my own vigilance with Oscar while the food arrived, until karma had had enough of hearing me extolling my own virtues and decided to bite back. It went something like this:

Colleague - "Wow, this soup is really hot"
Me - "Yeah, sharp corners, bla bla bla, hand gel, bla bla bla"
Oscar - "Shrrriiiieeeeeeeeekkkkkkkkk"

In the millisecond that I had turned to pick up Oscar's toy from where he had thrown it, he had stuck his hand straight into the steaming hot chicken and sweetcorn soup, flipping the bowl over and spraying his face at the same time.

Nothing could calm him down. I was covered from shoulder to knee in scalding soup as I rushed my screaming baby through the restaurant with a hundred pairs of eyes on me, and soon I was running cool water all over his hand and patting his forehead.
Of course, one stranger in the bathroom couldn't help but give me the exact same helpful advice that everyone seems to want to give me these days: "Can't you see? He's hungry!"

Anyway, once the restaurant staff had run down to the pharmacy to get some burn cream, Oscar was covered in a fluorescent yellow paste, cooing and giggling again, while I panted and shivered and thanked karma for just giving me a tiny lesson and not the full disfigurement that this could have been.

I am almost positive that Krusty is waiting for the appropriate time to have passed before he plays the "at least I didn't burn our son" card...