There is nothing funny about a child in hospital

There's nothing funny about looking after your own child in hospital.

Having said that, parts of it can be.

A child with a broken limb is quite different to a properly sick child, and so they do what toddlers do, chat - loudly. Sing - loudly. Ask questions - loudly.

"Mummy, what's that man/nurse/lady/boy/girl doing?"
"Mummy, why is that boy sad?"
"Mummy, why is his Dad snoring?"

"Coming up on Kidzone.. chuggington! - Chuuuugintooon... chugga chugga chugga"

"Mummy, is that the doctor?" (no honey, that's the orderly)
"Mummy, is he an oddily?" (yes honey)
"Mummy, he's not a man" (yesss he issss)
"Mummy if he's a man then why does he have a pony tail?"

"Twinkle, twiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiinkle, little staaaaaaaaaaaaaarrrr"

"What did you say Mummy?"
"Mummy, why do I have to shush?"
"Mummy, why is bedtime?"
"Mummy, why can't I talk if the lights are off?"
"MUMMY WHY AREN'T YOU TALKING TO MEEEEE??"

So then we walk, up and down, up and down, up and down. More singing, more questions, more walking, eventually crashing, mid-song, several hours later.

I gather that most kids aren't so cheerful when they wake up from being under GA. Can't say that applies to mine. Waiting around during surgery is harrowing. You have no idea what's going on, where they're up to, how they're getting on. It's worst case scenario paradise in your head. Finally you get the call and are sent to see a slightly groggy child eating an iceblock. He looks at me, smiles, finishes most of his iceblock and falls asleep with the last bit dripping out of his mouth down his neck. Back in the room he stirs again, drearily opens his eyes, sees me, looks around and gets a sense of where he is, looks back to me, focuses and smiles. "Mummy, I'm hungry". With that you know it's all gone well and he's just fine.