Taking two for the team

I remember, when I was a little boy, getting a microscope for Christmas.

The thing about microscopes is that you have to have something interesting to look at (particularly if you're a child) otherwise they're a complete waste of time.

Realising this (and no doubt responding to me being a spoilt little sh*t), my dad peeled a scab off his toe and wiped it onto a slide so I could examine his blood.

I've never forgotten that.

Tonight's incident bears little comparison but I'll quickly mention it.

Jamie wasn't settling, despite Vanessa and I utilising everything in our repertoire. So I decided to try him out with his dummy.

Following its dramatic introduction last weekend, we haven't actually used it very much over the last few days. But tonight we were getting on the wrong side of desperate.

Trying to take the initiative at a point where our little man was really kicking off, I grabbed the dummy and ran to the kitchen to sterilise it.

Normally this is a simple case of five minutes in a plastic container of boiling water. But, on this occasion, five minutes seemed a very long time, so I reached for the kettle, boiled it and then attempted to pour its contents over the teat of the dummy.

Bad (and, OK, brainless) move.

The water didn't get me but the steam did.

I'm now typing this using only my right hand as the first two fingers of my left hand are in a glass of cold water - where they've been for almost two hours (and yes, I've changed the water several times to keep it cold, thanks!)

Unlike my dad's act of self-mutilation years ago, my wounding was very much accidental and therefore lacking any hint of bravery.

But I reserve the right to dig this story up when I'm old and grey, Jamie's in the bar and I'm struggling for the price of a drink.

Wouldn't you?!