1. Pedalling

2. Swinging

3. Running

Son 1 aged 3 and a half and I were pushing Son 2 aged 7m down the Terrace in his pram to get him to go to sleep.  Son 2 is  often out being perambulated, much to the enjoyment of our many neighbours.  Son 1 and I took his tricycle out as well.  And he pedalled it.  I didn’t know he could pedal.  It’s been in my oh-well-he’s-good-at-loads-of-other-things headspace as I watch other three year olds riding their trikes across town, scooting around like bullets or getting their stabilisers taken up.  But he did it.  Pedalled all the way down to the phone box.  Didn’t pedal back of course, it’s uphill.  We put it on the pram and he walked.  He has his mother’s gift for balancing effort with efficiency.

Son 2 woke up as soon as we got back, so I did his lunch, fed him,  and tried to get him to sleep in his cot.  Three times I nearly did it, and three times Son 1 came blasting cheerfully in to wake him up.  So I put him back in the pram and we all went up to the Playground at the Top of the Hill.  This is a fair way, and, as you’d expect, uphill all the way.  Son 2 stayed awake the whole time.  I left him in his pram to rest and watch the other children and Son 1.  He laughed and laughed at Son 1 on the baby swing, so I put him in the other one and he loved it.  Great gaping smiles, giggles…  and then he stayed awake all the way back. 

In the old days BC, there was a 4-mile run round the headland I used to do on Sundays the day after long runs.  It was also the run I did if I got back from work and I really didn’t have time to do a proper run.   The shortest distance I counted as a training run.  I last did it when I was about 6 months pregnant with Son 1… And I just did it again.  Hoorah hooray.  It’s got one long, grim climb in it between 1m and 1.5m… but it was fine.  I know the BC me wouldn’t be remotely interested, but I’m really pleased.  I’ve done one of my old routes.  And if I can run 4 miles… then surely it won’t be long before I can run 5… 

1. Greens

2. Manners

3. The joke

On grey, wet days, The Town is just an-out-of-season-holiday-town-in-the-rain.   On days like today it’s like Crete.  As it said on the chalk boards in the shop window, wind speed 1, sea slight, visibility good.  I went running during Son 1 aged 3 and a half’s swimming lesson, and the water was turquoise, there were flowers and young leaves everywhere… a lovely spread of light green bramble on the cliffside broken by a single red hot poker… and then running round the headland  through a tunnel of trees there was bright white wild garlic on either side of the path for hundreds of yards.  Birdsong, sunshine, bluebells, hardly anyone around.  It was fantastic.    

Missed breakfast again so persuaded The Man to stop at the Beach Cafe for a snackette.  He stayed with the boys; I went for coffee and cake.  I got a chocolate Danish for him, a chocolate Brownie for Son 1 and ordered brioche for me.  Son 1 let off a tuneless howl because I cut up the Brownie, but I re-bottled that genie by betting him he couldn’t count to 12.  The Man did the 40+ version of the same thing over his Danish: “I’m not eating that.  I don’t like them.  You’ve never seen me eat one of those.”  Whereupon the 3 and half year old sighed and said “I’ll have it,” unwrapped the pastry, started digging the chocolate drops out with his fingers and asked kindly: “Did you enjoy your run, Mummy?”

Son 2 aged 7m has told his first joke.  As I was putting him to bed.  I’d just given him his Gaviscon, and was letting him play with the syringe to get him in the mood for his Calpol… shall we just say that never goes down quite as easily.  He was biting the syringe’s plunger end, and waving the whole thing around, and then accidently stuck it in my mouth.  And roared and roared with laughter.  From then on he was aiming deliberately, trying to get the business end in my mouth and giggling and giggling till he could hardly breathe and gave himself body-shaking hiccups. “I’m giving Mummy the Gaviscon, ha ha ha ha ha ha ha.”