Doctors

Amid the jumbled mess from the machinery of midweek home lies mummy in urgent need of medical attention.

She is obviously sick despite the need to pick and pack a child for sleep. It is a Category 1 emergency. Her temperature needs to be taken by a syringe to the ear, a splinter is delicately cut out with pink wooden scissors, and notes are jotted down using the tip of a thermometer (it says "love heart, OK?"). Mummy will be better soon.

“Watching a child playing doctors is to view purity in motion.”

There is a sweet untainted nature to their clinical care, like that if cherubs were ward nurses. Medications would come in the form of, "Baby size, mummy size, and daddy size". You'd have a choice of which cuddle toy to have: Baabaa or Lula. Lula doll apparently is as powerful as panadol, and Baabaa is like Valium. Blankets too are a model of care. Complex clinical pathways are innocently simple and perpetually optimistic.

For mummy, it was an easy prognosis: A silly throat and a broken tongue.