"Well little guy, it's just you and me, in this big house."
He just snuggled into my neck. I think he was glad to be held after being stuck in his car seat for so long. It was safer that way and avoided him getting hurt during the whole moving process.
Edna had only just dropped him off, she had offered to look after him for a few hours whilst I oversaw the move. This time I was adamant that I would see everything packed up and placed securely on the moving truck.
After the whole debacle with that one solitary arm of the government, I wasn't willing to take any further risks to our safety. It was unsettling to know that some asshat had some personal details pertaining to my only child, my only son.
The troubling thought was that I was still due on set tomorrow. The schedule was always tight when a film was pre-production. I still had a few extra shots to film, then there were the Easter eggs and future movie teasers.
I walked up the stairs of our new home, he was struggling to keep his eyes open and I knew he was tired. Once in his ridiculously large room, I placed him into his cot bed and left the door ajar. I still had lines to practice and boxes to unpack so I walked back downstairs, in a hope that he would at least sleep or maybe do his usual power naps.
I swore to him that I would make it up to him for missing his birthday, I still felt really bad about that. Heck, I was all he had and even I couldn't get it right. The poor little guy had no chance.
Back downstairs I scooped up my lines for the next few scenes. I sat down with a hot drink and began reading in earnest. The accent chosen was certainly in my repertoire of practised character profiles and this one seemed to have won over the director and screenwriters approvals,
You'd be surprised how long it takes to film these minute to three-minute specials. You know, the same level of detail is afforded to those teasers because we want those steadfast fans to come back year after year. It's what keeps the money rolling in for the studios and the actors who command such a large wage.
I don't command a large wage as such but the film studios pay me a damn good salary that is usually in direct competition with another film studio.
Let's just say that I'll never need for much when I retire and neither will little tyke.
A loud racket soon snapped me back to my senses, followed shortly by a loud pained cry. The type of wailing that I affectionately term as a creaky door cry because it usually starts off with a large intake of breath.
That cry was the type he did rarely, so to hear it was akin to rocket fuel.
I shot upstairs as fast as I could. Dreading to think what had happened to cause him to cry so loudly. He was still sobbing uncontrollably when I got to him.
He had somehow escaped from his playpen and made his way into the walk in wardrobe. I was immensely relieved that he hadn't attempted the stairs.
"JAY!" I cried out and picked him up off the floor.
It was only when I turned him to look him over, did I realise that he had been injured. He was bleeding, above his eye.
The offending item was a small now broken picture frame. A large segment of glass was laying next to him. The corner of the picture frame had blood on it. It had broken his skin and was free flowing down one side of his face.
"Oh, no, no, no, no!"
"God no...shit!" I fumbled with my phone, my hands were shaking as I tried to gain a purchase of the slippery little fella.
I scooped him up and quickly stalked to the bathroom to grab a hand towel. I placed the towel over his injured eyebrow and paced the floor of the same room while waiting for the Paediatric ER to answer the phone.
Eventually, someone answered.
"Bring him in, he might need stitches."
"Wet a clean cloth with cooled boiled water."
He was still crying and nothing I tried seemed to work. Cold compress, a small oral syringe of paediatric analgesia. Nothing was working. His eyebrow was still bleeding and I felt so low at putting him in this situation.
Within a few minutes, I had grabbed a few supplies for both of us before strapping him into his car seat.
I think I broke the speed limit getting to the children's ER. If I got a fine I'd pay it, I couldn't do with the negative press relating to contesting a fine.
He was tired, and somehow the gash had produced a stream of blood that went directly into his little blue eyes. He looked a right mess because of that gash, even his knuckles were covered in blood from rubbing his eyes.
Duplicates and such, spelling errors and what not. Thanks guys xxSRxx
