It was approximately 1630 when Alex decided to dive head first into a rock in the sandpit at Dunes in Hout Bay: a location that he chose for lunch on his fourth birthday (which is what today is).
Previously, he and his sister had enjoyed playing there for hours in the sun while we watched over them through the bottom of several (or more) draught Peronis. And we really were thinking about heading home when we suddenly thought about heading for the hospital.
A few tears (always a good sign with a banged head) and plenty of blood (not so good) and we decided to cut things short (although we did stay for a quick bowl of ice cream while we paid the bill).
At the hospital, surrounded by osteoporotic old ladies and vomiting babies, we waited and waited and waited until finally escaping almost three hours later with a clean bill of health and some helpfully washed hair.
No stitches. No fuss. But a great tale for school on Wednesday.