This morning I found myself, along with three other passersby, disentangling a hedgehog from a cricket net near my house. The thought, “Only in England . . .” did occur to me. With some scissors and a garden-gloved lady’s gentle scolds (“Now, little man, uncurl a bit. That’s it. Show us your little hand here . . .”), we got him sorted and carried to a hedge well away from the net. I wish Katherine and Nathaniel had been there to see it! I will never read Beatrix Potter’s “The Tale of Mrs. Tiggy-Winkle” in quite the same light.
In other news, it appears that I got off easy with the two black eyes I received from our kids when they were small. In this New York Times article, parents report fractures, concussions, and corneal abrasions from their beloved children. I have to hope that it’s no accident that my injuries took place when the kids were very small and I was seriously sleep-deprived. Maybe we’re done?