On Doctor's Orders

“Mu-um!” came the plaintive cry from the other room.

“Not now, darling,” Andrea called back, trying to keep the exasperation out of her voice.

“Oh, but it itches!” her daughter whined.

“Please, sweetheart, just try and ignore it,” Andrea begged, wanting to be able to take her own advice.

“Quite a lot…”

Really, was it too much to ask for some peace and quiet while she was trying to work?

Sally’s broken ankle had come along at a very awkward time for Andrea. The pitch for a massive environmental contract was due in a few days and it was Andrea’s job to prepare the presentation. Usually, her boss would be in charge, but he was on a business trip to Japan, cultivating existing clients. Virtually every other member of the department was off sick, busy on something even more important, or just not good enough for the task. When the call had come from Sally’s school that she’d had an accident on the hockey field, Andrea had been just about at the end of her tether.

X-rays had shown a nasty fracture, and the doctor had said Sally would need to stay off it completely for at least a few days.

You’ve got to be kidding me, was all Andrea had been able to think, though she had managed not to express her frustration out loud. Zoological environmentalist proposals would apparently have to wait, at least until Sally was moving around under her own steam again.

Another wail from the lounge broke Andrea out of her reverie, and she heaved a deep sigh. Brooding about the unfairness of the situation wasn’t helping her focus much, either. Collecting up the last shreds of her maternal patience, she made her way into the other room and immediately had to spring forwards to snatch a pair of chopsticks from her daughter’s hand.

“Doctor’s orders,” she admonished, scouting about for any other available scratching implements. “Even if it’s driving you absolutely crazy, you mustn’t stick anything down the cast.”

“Fudge!” Sally groaned, clenching her fists tightly at her sides. “God, this is annoying!”

How very true, Andrea agreed silently, but smiled sympathetically instead.

“I know, darling,” she soothed. “Just try and think about something else.”

“Killing that stupid Jessica for whacking me instead of the ball?” Sally ground out.

“Lop her head off with a machete, feed her to some sharks, poison her with blowfish, run her down with the school bus, set her on fire with a bunsen burner; whatever keeps your mind occupied.”

“Mum!” Sally exclaimed, apparently shocked; though also, Andrea noted with satisfaction, apparently no longer thinking about her itchy leg.