Bart Bear's Blog

Mum was back in hospital two weeks ago and she came back with lots of sticky dressings covering the cuts that the surgeon had made in her. I was allowed to stay in hospital with her, but they wouldn't let me into the operating theatre. That's pretty mean of them because I could probably do a good job as a surgeon. After all, Dad lets me trim the pieces of our models with his craft knives, and scalpels aren't all that much different. And the nurses wouldn't give me any needles, or let me try giving them either. So this stay in hospital was a bit slow for a small bear, just watching Mum get all the attention. I really wanted to see how things are done because if I can't be a sniffer-bear for Customs or a helicopter pilot I wouldn't mind giving doctoring a go. Well, I figured there was one thing I could try. There is a medicine box at home and it has all sorts of medicines and bandages and things in it. So while Dad was busy changing some of Mum's sticky dressings I cut some bits of sticking plaster and put some on me, one to cover an imaginary cut tummy and one on the arm. I thought it looked good but the Oldies weren't happy about me getting into the medicine box. They say it is definitely not a thing for small bears. They weren't happy about the sticky plaster either. Mum said it might pull my fur out when I tried to get it off. Well, she was wrong. I didn't loose any fur but boy, that plaster really sticks. Of course it is hard to remove when you don't have fingers, but I figured it out. Borrow Mum's crimping pliers and tug gently. Plaster problem solved, but another one appeared immediately. That's right, sticky stuff on the jaws of the pliers. Unhappy Mum again. Sometimes small bears just can't win.

Labels: family, trouble