A tiny tyrant’s Guide to safety (and My Sanity)
Remember the carefree days of the early 2000s? Overpriced paninis were a luxury, not a health code violation. fast forward to present day,and my life revolves around a four-year-old safety inspector named Ted.
My journey into the world of hyper-vigilance began years ago, during a less-than-pleasant experience at a cafe where I worked. A health inspector’s visit resulted in a scathing report and a temporary closure. My then-boss’s reaction was memorable: “I hope your parents are proud,” he sneered at the inspector.The inspector’s calm reply, “Actually, they are,” as he issued the closure notice, still echoes in my mind.
That night, over drinks, my boss lamented, “nobody dreams of being a health and safety officer.” Little did he know, he was foreshadowing my future. My son, Ted, has inherited a passion for safety, albeit a rather intense one.
Ted’s constant reminders about potential hazards – from tape dispensers to craft scissors – have turned my home into a meticulously organized safety zone. “Mammy,you must clean up the floor because JJ is only a baby,” he lectures daily.It’s a constant reminder of my responsibilities, though I sometimes wonder if he’s secretly plotting my demise.
Last week, a simple suggestion of a playground run was met with a stern ”Mammy, the sign says no running.” He pointed to a picture of a child running with a large ‘X’ – a symbol I’d always assumed meant “no soccer.” My attempt at a jog was abruptly halted, further punctuated by Ted’s declaration to a nearby stranger: “My mammy doesn’t know the rules,” he sighed.
This incident painted me as a reckless lawbreaker, a far cry from the reality of a teacher who carries emergency tissues. Ted’s safety obsession extends to car rides, where he meticulously checks his seatbelt. “Usually, such second-guessing would have my nostrils flaring,” I confess, “but, with Ted, it’s hard to be mad at someone who also happens to be your number one fan. Except when I am driving on the motorway and he will insist I am driving too fast at 100km.”
Even my simple pleasures are not safe from Ted’s scrutiny. My love for cinnamon-scented candles is constantly thwarted by his fear of fire: “Fire is perilous,” he reminds me, extinguishing my romantic ambiance. Cooking is a battle for control of the knife set,as Ted seems convinced I’m prone to kitchen rampages. Even decorating the Christmas tree became a safety hazard, with Ted’s horrified reaction to my glittery acorns: “Mammy, what about the baby?” he exclaimed.
While Ted’s safety obsession can be overwhelming, it’s also a testament to his growing awareness and concern for others. it’s a constant learning experience for both of us, a reminder that even the smallest members of our family can teach us valuable lessons about obligation and safety.
The Unexpected Hero: My Son’s Obsessive Health and Safety Regime
My six-year-old son, Ted, isn’t your average kid. He’s our resident health and safety officer, and let me tell you, he takes his job very seriously. His dedication is both hilarious and, surprisingly, incredibly helpful.
Just the other day, I was casually preparing a snack when Ted’s reaction was, to put it mildly, dramatic.”mom!” he exclaimed, his open palms and outstretched arms as if to tell me this was the straw that broke the camel’s back. “You’re using the wrong cutting board!” His judgement was so extreme, you’d swear I had just informed him I was heading out for cocktails and he was minding the gaff for the night.
Still, the good thing about having a resident health and safety officer is that very little gets past this guy. Ted is essentially the eyes in the back of my matted, unbrushed head. More than once, I have been happily going about my life oblivious to the fact that my younger son, JJ, is chewing a Lego head like it’s a tic Tac. Worse again,he will be chewing an actual Tic Tac. But for his brother being there to call for back-up, I dread to think what could have happened.
The precautions don’t stop there. Ted is a child who flatly refuses to look at his scooter as much without wearing his helmet and will always double-check that I have his brother strapped securely in his buggy before we can go for a stroll along the marina.
Some 60% of the time, this micromanaging proves totally unnecessary — 40% of the time, I’m just grateful one of us knows what we are doing. I have no doubt that health and safety officers still provoke palpitations in buisness people up and down the land, even in an era where we know chopping boards need to be rinsed on occasion. Surely the only thing that strikes more fear into the hearts of us mere mortals than a man armed with a clipboard is a man armed with a speed camera. Perhaps we should all take Ted’s advice and drive at 100km on motorways, just in case.
While his methods might be a bit… intense, Ted’s unwavering commitment to safety reminds us all of the importance of vigilance, even in the seemingly mundane aspects of daily life. And who knows, maybe he’ll be the next great safety innovator. At the very least, he’s keeping our family safe, one Lego head at a time.
