As the hammer crashed on to my fingers instead of the nail I bit on my lip and looked to my two year old in the corner. I wanted to swear like a trooper, but didn’t want her to pick up bad language.
”Golly Gee!” I shouted at the top of my lungs as my thumb throbbed and turned the colour of a volcano.
”Mummy, you okay?’
‘Fine.’ It came out like a squeak rather than the normal voice I was trying to find.
‘Mummy, your finger is all red and swollen,’ she said.
”Is it?” I finally look down, and inwardly I swear.