1. Box
2. Tea
3. Rain
Son 1 aged 4y 7m wanted a Big Box to make a den from. One of his friends has one. So I lugged a huge dishwasher box home from The Office on Monday, and we made it into a house this morning. A stable door, a window with shutters, and a skylight were my contributions. Son 1 has written his name on it and made a picture to hang up wonkily inside. Son 2 aged 19m has drawn on the sides in felt tip pen. “Boh!” he said, pointing. “Boh!” They were supposed to be getting on with playing while I made pancakes for breakfast. It worked, kind of. I struggle with pancake making. I burn or undercook, I never get the oil right, I’m rubbish at flipping them. Wonder Nanny knocks out perfect examples every time. She doesn’t use oil. “It’s a non-stick pan.” I never understood that logic, but this morning I went with it. No oil. Perfect pancakes. They gobbled them up.
Son 2 is still in hell with chickenpox. He woke up this morning boiling hot, scratching and howling. I gave him milk, put him in a bicarb bath and let the shower run on his back. One set of Wednesday friends didn’t come today, but the Mother was ill, so I’m hoping that as the reason. We walked into town to meet the other. There was a book about a character with Son 2’s (unusual) name in Oxfam, so I bought it. And Son 1 had been promised a Pirate Lego set for being good while Son 2 got all the Mummy Time. “Boog!” said Son 2. We had coffee at one end of town, and then another coffee at the other. I spent most of the afternoon putting the Pirate Lego set together. That’ll be why the box said 6 - 12 then. I got fed up with how much time I was spending on Pages 1 - 37 instructions, with two other sections to follow. Son 1 said “Well done Mummy. You’re doing a great job. Thank you very much for buying me my pirates.” The pat on the head did the trick, and I persevered. Again, I started grumbling. I wanted to spend time with Son 1 and Son 2, not fish poxy two-bit Lego brick things out of piles of other poxy two-bit brick things. ”Well done Mummy,” said Son 1. “Thank you for helping me.” My heart sang. There was a knock on the door. The Wednesday Mummy, taking pity on me because The Man’s Business Trip goes On and On, had brought round some home-made sauce for us. “Tee!” pointed Son 2 at the pan as the pasta boiled.
Books and Bath and Bed was therefore earlier and more successful than other days this week. I am still starting off with a glass of wine. Son 2 and I did his books. I wanted Tiddler. He insisted on “Oceans,” which is pictures of dolphins and sharks and whales and seahorses and jellyfish etc. In the bath I washed his hair to get today’s calamine out before I slathered him again. He screamed. Surely this is the worst his spots can get. He has great flaming lines of them down his back and his groin is a mess. “Wee wee,” he said, sitting in the bicarb-ed bath. Wee wee is wee, but it is also willy. Translation: “My willy hurts.” And then he pointed up at the shower head and said: “Rain.”
Tags: appreciation, blisters, books and bath andn bed, business trip, calamine lotion, chickenpox, den, dishwasher box, expressive language, Oxfam, pancakes, Pirate Lego, playhouse, rash, tiddler, Wonder Nanny
