1.  The School

2.  The Surgery

3.  The Shop

Son 1 aged 5y 1m went Back To School, hooray.  He was reluctant, felt poorly and couldn’t possibly manage breakfast. But then he forgot, and bounced around the kitchen, pestering Son 2 aged 2y 2m, playing with the big bunch of balloons I brought back from the concert and hollering loudly.  The School was lovely, pleased to see him, worried about him, and happy to give him his antibiotics.  I drove off, and then headed over to The City, an hour and a half away. 

Tootling back, I looked down at the clock. Five minutes till I had to pick Son 1 up.    And then I looked at the roadsigns.  Six miles from The Town.  I am Always Late For Everything.  Son 1 had been “a delight” at school, said Mrs Smiley. He also had a bright red mark on his face. I panicked. “I scratched it on my coat,” said Son 1.  In the car, I rang the Surgery for his swab result.  Strep confirmed.  Quelle Surprise. I feel very Clever Mummy for getting him up to the doctor within minutes of seeing the rash… but it’s still been a bit of a wake up call.   I’m an over-protective hypochondriac, but secretly, underneath all the fuss,  I always assume our every cough and splutter is just a cold.

I took Son 1 to Tesco after school.  We haven’t done a big shop for months, and I took ages. Son 1 was a saint. i said he could have a lego set for going back to school so well, and he was happy trailing round holding it and looking at it. At the till, the woman said “You’re a lucky boy having a toy so close to Christmas.” We told her our story. Then she told us hers.  Husband made redundant, so she has to work every shift she can.  Then her oven packed up. She went out and did a big shop because her Tesco vouchers arrived. Put it in the freezer. A day later noticed the food was soft. The freezer had packed up. Her son took a pizza to cook in the microwave, which includes a grill.  The microwave had packed up.  “Buy a lottery ticket,” I said.  “The law of averages says you’re in for a run of good luck.”  I do hope we haven’t given her scarlet fever.

1.  Getting Up

2.  Stepping Out

3.  Lying Down

As always, on a Monday morning, The Man and I were clattering around downstairs while the Son 1 aged 5y 1m and Son 2 aged 2y 1m softly snored in their bedroom.   I drank coffee, and gazed blearily at the clocks.  Every clock in the house has to be fast, or I am Late For Everything.  And only a few have been put back.  So in the lounge it was 0730. In the kitchen it was 0630.  Everywhere else,  it could have been anything from 0615 to 0620.   Wonder Nanny, months ago, told me she never looks at any of our clocks and relies on her mobile phone for the time.  The boys came down.  Son 1 now turns his nose up at Coco Pops, so we’ve gone back to pancakes.  Son 2 stuffed his face. Son 1 nibbled the edge of a tiny piece like a teenaged girl in ballet school.  I nagged and nagged.   As always, on a Monday morning, I was Gloriously Grateful that Son 1 got to School on time.

At lunchtime, a colleague and I went out for a Run.  I haven’t been out since A Pan Fan.  ( Another Good Thing. I have worked out how to edit the hyperlinks…)   We were therefore both Beginners, and did 3min walking and 3 min running x 5, in bright, crisp autumn sunshine.  We went down by The River, past the Garden and the Playground and along to the Sports Field.  My colleague wanted to run on the grass to save our joints. I didn’t want to mess up my nearly new shoes.  And yet inside I still think I’m a runner…  

I collected Son 1 from After School club.  He burrowed his face into my shoulder.  “Are you tired, Son 1?” I asked. “They’re all a bit tired, today,” said the Helper. Son 1 wanted a carry.  I hitched him up, and he slumped against me. “You’re not very well, are you?”  “My throat’s sore. It hurts when I yawn. Tell Daddy I don’t think I’ll have any tea. ”   I carried him across the playground. “I’m parked right up the Muddy Path. Do you want me to leave you on the bench while I go and get the car?”  “Yes please.”  Reader, I couldn’t.  I carried the poor floppy lump quarter of a mile, in my trouser suit and three inch heels.  He only ate a Frube from his tuck box, and was asleep by the time we got home.  I took his temperature. 37.9.  Son 2, chuckling with joy at first sight of us, went nuts at the amount of attention Son 1 was getting. They were both in bed and asleep at 7pm.  Or 8pm, if you were in the lounge.

1.  I Don’t Have To Runday

2.  Let’s Go Make Some Noise

3.  Funday

Son 1 aged 5, and Son 2 aged 2y 1m slept through, and so did I. Son 1 stayed in his own bed.  This is a Very Good Thing, as I am Truly Knackered.  The first day of Half Term. Son 1, who has issues with Monday morning, eg: http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/09/29/payback/  was dancing on the Big Bed at 0630, spinning round and round with his arms out. “And me!” said Son 2, in raptures, trying to get up there.  They had breakfast. We read. We went upstairs. I read Son 2 Lost and Found and then put it on from the EPG while I had my shower. I zoomed around, they lolled. I wore a silk print frock, with that last-time-this’ll-be-out-this-year feeling. 

Back from The Office, Granny and Grandad were sitting at the table while Wonder Nanny served fruit and yoghurt for pudding. The boys, who I’d seen through the window sitting perfectly, both went into orbit.  Ran off from the table, shouted, raided the fruit I’d bought and took one bite out of everything, fell out over satsumas, shouted, snatched, pushed each other over. Son 1 span round and round.  And shouted.  Yummee.   Just for me. “They’ve been exceptionally well behaved today,” said Grandad.

I told G and G about the dead rat, and got Granny to supervise Upstairs while I took the bins out.  I somehow didn’t fancy dragging dustbins through Rat Alley in the dark. ”Grandad!” called Granny. “Are you going to help Serenedays?” “Don’t worry, I’m fine,” I called back.  But still I heard him get up from his chair.  That’s nice, I thought, he’s still coming down. Nope. Grandad, who has never previously entered a bathroom with boys in, pelted upstairs to help Granny. Not a rat man then.   I saw no critturs. I relieved Granny and Grandad, and conditioned and combed Son 1’s hair. He was not happy.  I don’t think there’s anything there, but I can’t really see. One for Wonder Nanny.  I’ll give Son 2’s a go tomorrow when The Man is back.  Lifestyle Guru Hairdresser says her children never get nits because they’re so rabidly antisocial they never put their heads near anyone else’s.  See? Even head lice can be A Good Thing. They mean your child has social skills.

1.  Tessellation

2.  Acute Angle

3.  Fearful Symmetry

Son 1 aged 5 came in the Big Bed in the night.  Fast asleep, his little body seeks mine. Arms, legs, hands, touch,  touch, touch, snug,  snug, snug, following me around the bed.  I don’t think there’s a childcare book I haven’t read, so yes, I know I should be giving him the great gift of learning to sleep independently… but surely anyone seeing the unconscious behaviour of a small child in bed would conclude they are biologically programmed to sleep with their parents.   We of course are not biologically programmed to work ourselves into oblivion, which is why it all gets tricky. 

And which is why I get every bug going.  I still can’t speak, so I couldn’t go into The Office.  The weather was heavenly, so I decided to help my recovery by taking Son 2 aged 2y 1m to The Zoo.  He loved it. Monkeys, lemurs, ducks, deers, warthogs… “Next one! Next one!”  Lions, lynx, zebra, penguins, snakes, reptiles, frogs.  He walked and walked.  “I wan’ see lion.  I wan’ see lil farm. I wan’ see clip clop (= horses = zebras.)” After two hours I had to give up and we drove back. Son 2 fell asleep almost instantly.  I thought  a sherbert lemon from a bag my colleagues left would help my throat. The bag and the sweet wrapper crackled. ”I wan’ tweetie!” came a cry from the backseat.  At home I needed a rest. Son 2 wouldn’t lie down with me, so I went into the boys’ room, got into Son 1’s bed, and let Son 2 play with his cot and soft toys on the floor beside me.   I closed my eyes.  Something heavy smashed into my forehead so hard it nearly popped my eyeball out from the inside.  It was the lamp from on top of the headboard. Son 2, playing with the on/off switch, had pulled the flex and brought the heavy metal base down on my temple from two foot up.  The imprint is a trench in the bruise on my forehead. Being positive, at least we now know it’s dangerous. It would have cracked a little boy skull like an eggshell. “Mummy. Bump. Light. Head. Ouch.” said Son 2.

The Man collected Son 1 from School and the boys had the Sunday roast leftovers for tea. Just when I thought they’d finished and could be shooed up to bed, Son 1 reminded me that I’d said they could have jelly tot lollies for pudding. ”Ok, you can eat them outside as a special treat and we’ll read some books while we’re out there.” The evening was glorious. We sat beneath the fading sunflowers, and read Son 1’s school book. The boys gobbled the last pea pods off the plants we’d grown.  Son 1 was happy to have his bath and go to bed with Son 2. He dashed upstairs, sprinted into the bedroom and caught the side of his head full pelt against the doorpost, so fast and so hard he ricocheted off like a billiard ball.  He screamed, and cried loudly and horribly. I scooped him up, gave him a large slug of ibuprofen and made him an ice compress in a tea towel.  His left temple is grazed and bruised.  My right temple is dented and bruised.  On the same day, within three hours of each other, absolutely unrelated accidents.  How does that happen?

1.  Nobody To Hug

2.  Fancy Dancing With The Fleas

3.  Every Little Crawling Creature You Can Name

Well let’s start off with a Big Fat Positive.  Son 2 aged 2 slept through the night without HOWLING for me. Big big relief.  Yes I know it’s only one night… but at least it shows he still can, and hasn’t flipped back to the nightmare days of a year ago when Wonder Nanny was off, Son 1 had just started the new Nursery and I’d just stopped feeding him and he WANTED HIS MUMMY.

And then. I got up at 0545.  Made lunches, put out breakfast. Cleaned. Did washing. Left dishwasher for Granny. (Daring.) Took The Man a cup of tea. Son 1 aged 5 woke, reluctantly.  We got him up. We got him dressed and fed. We were nearly on teeth and Out Of The Door.  He scratched the back of his head.  He’d scratched the back of his head on Friday, and I conditioned him and Nitty Grittied him. The back of his hairline looked red, but I took him to the Hairdresser and she didn’t find anything.  “Son 1, come over to the light and let me have a look at you.”  A Secret Thing I will tell you about Being An Older Parent is we can see Bugger All.  It’s blissful. We can’t read ingredients on packets, so we fret not over sugar or salt.  We can’t read safety warnings on toy instructions , so we never worry.  We can’t see marks on whites, pencil on walls or insects on the lino.  We can’t cut toenails: “Ow Mummy! You made me bleed!” Never, Ever, let us drive you at night.  And head lice on blond children? Forgeddit.   I am so short sighted I need blastproof thickness contact lenses. And yet my near focus has gone. So. I took out my lenses, yanked poor old Son 1 round by the window and stared at his hair from a distance of one inch. There was something dark gripping a hair which I couldn’t pick off. I combed. And I found an insect. I rang the school. Treat Him, they said, and bring him in.  I conditioned and Nitty Grittied Son 1 in the bath.  We found two more critturs.  I rubbed sheepdip into his hair.  “I need to do mine, I need to do mine,” The Man panicked. My head started to itch. Granny, in her dressing gown, looked after Son 2.  Son 1 wriggled and cried and whinged. “If you sit still Daddy will buy you a packet of Go Gos,” I said. “I need two packets,” said Son 1. “Done!” I said.  Son 1 sat, saintly, patient.  I finally got him, damp haired and stinking, to School an hour late.  I am overwhelmed at The Office at the moment. If I had to pick a day when I simply couldn’t be late, today was it.   

At The Office the “Only One Way To Get Rid Of Head Lice” stories rained down.  Wrap your hair in olive oil in a towel for two days.  Make sure you get the eggs.  Tea Tree oil.  I tackled my work pile and was pleased with how far I got. Son 2’s Godmother got the tests back. E Bloody coli.  Where did she get that? Apparently it lives in your gut and can spontaneously skate in.  One of those Shaddap About The Headlice moments. I took her sunflowers.  I went to Boots for more sheepdip.  The Assistant couldn’t have cared less about our outbreak. I just made it to Son 1’s school before the After School Club shut. Back home I shampooed and combed two slithering, wriggling children. And rubbed Agent Orange into my hair. I am bleached blonde. It will probably be green by morning.

1.  Sleeping

2.  Smiling

3.  Sluicing

And of course I couldn’t get either of them up this morning. The Man left at 0530 on a Business Trip. I got up, had coffee, had breakfast, emptied dishwasher, hung washing out, put washing on, put boys’ breakfast out, showered, did hair and make up and STILL they weren’t bothering.  Why.  Why at the weekend, when I am gripping my bed like I’m on a 20th-floor ledge, do they make me get up? And then why do they not even hear me in the week? Even Son 2 aged 2, the original I WILL WALK 500 MILES AND I WILL WALK 500 MORE hypercharged baby was comatose.   I got them up, and I got us out.

When I picked Son 1 aged 5 up from school, he burrowed in his bag and produced several proof sheets from the school photos taken last week. Wonder Nanny had taken Son 2 along as well, so there were five of the two of them together.  i have long told Son 1 that if he smiles nicely in official photos, Mummy will buy him a present. The pictures are truly fantastic, and Son 1 knew it.  Crumple of small boy when he realised I didn’t have a present with me.  In my defence, I had said I needed to see the smiles first. We have agreed we will try and get to a joke shop tomorrow to see if they have a magic wand. 

I did them corn on the cob for tea. Served with little sharp skewery things in each end.  Kitchen gadgets I bought in the days when I though we weren’t having children.  Son 2 pulled his out and started shoving one through his teeth. Son 1 played pirates with his. The corn was too hot to eat, so I sliced it off onto their plates. Son 1 stared at the pile in disbelief. “I want it back on,” he wailed.  Upstairs Son 2 was in the bath while I sorted washing and Son 1 spoke to Birthday Boy Godbrother on the phone. “Big Poo!” came the battle cry. We went in. There was a toy turtle floating in the bubbles on the top. But nothing sinister. I put my hand in for the turtle. It wasn’t a turtle.  And my hand went straight through it, a five-fingered macerator which scattered the soft turd down, along and up the sides of the bath.    Son 2 couldn’t have had more toys in the bath if he’d piled up every one he owns in there.  Today’s Top Tip.  In net laundry bags (Lakeland and kitchen shops,) in the washing machine, Quick Wash. ”Big Poo,” said Son 2 again. We put him on the booster loo seat. He performed. Four chocolate buttons each for a poo in the loo.  Keeps the children still and quiet for just long enough to spray and wash the bath out.

1.  A White Rabbit

2.  Halloween Bats

3.  The Enormous Crocodile

The alarm went off.  Son 1 aged 4y 11m was in the Big Bed.  I had a nice snuggy cuddle, and woke up 50 minutes later. Oh my ears and whiskers.  Poor old Son 2 aged 2 didn’t get any stories.  Got up. Breakfasted Son 1 and Son 2, showered, dressed, did face and hair, scooped up Son 1, gave him a toothbrush and told him to do his teeth in the car…  and outta the door. Hellish traffic, but I have a Rat Run. “Have you cleaned your teeth?” “Yes.” We got to School in time to park up the Muddy Path. And then I saw the toothbrush. He hadn’t touched it.  “Just clean them now.” “No.”  He cried, he stropped, he dillied, dallied and dawdled.  The doors were closed by the time we got there.  And Son 1 was very upset. “It’s my fault,” I said. “For rolling over and going back to sleep.”  

At lunchtime I went looking for Cookie Cutters for the party bags. It is a Scooby Doo party, and I’ve been after for one Nice, Lasting, Cheap Thing to go in the bags.  They are getting Halloween cutters. I haven’t yet worked out how many children we have coming.  Doesn’t matter. We like making biscuits in our house.  We do, it has to be said, have a heck of a lot of boys coming. And two girls.  I haven’t told the parents of the girls that we have a slight imbalance.  Tra la la.   When I picked Son 1 up I let him see the cookie cutters, and he of course wanted to do the party bags when he got in. Oh boy.  As a friend said to me recently: “Why don’t you just try saying ‘no?’”   

Son 1 does Activity Time with The Man each evening while I’m bathing Son 2 and putting him to bed.  Then Son 1 and I read, him snugged next to me in the Double Bed, just ahead of popping him into his own bed, in his room, where Son 2 is already asleep in the cot. The Man’s being doing Son 1’s Jolly Phonics with him. We also have a reading book with a list of words we’re supposed to help hime learn. This week it is “I” “a” and “look.”  Son 1 and I read The Enormous Crocodile. I tried to get him interested in looking at the “looks.”  “I don’t want to.  Just read it.”  Then we got onto Bugs In The Blanket.  “I’ll give you a chocolate button for each ‘look’ you can find.” I said. He went to bed with a pile of seven chocolate buttons waiting for him in the morning.

1.  Round Turn And Two Half Hitches

2.  Bowlines

3.  Splicing The Mainbrace

A glorious day, and we took The Boat out for a crabbing trip.  Oh ok then, we took The Boat out because both Son 1 aged 4y 11m and Son 2 aged 2 were so knackered that they were almost certain to fall asleep with the drone of the engine.  It worked perfectly.  They scoffed the frozen Frubes and ice pops I’d put in a flask with some ice cubes for lollies… they each had a sandwich, and Son 1 was already lying down in the cabin. I bribed them of course. “Boys who have a sleep on The Boat can have some chocolate when they wake up.”  Zzzzzzzzzz.  I really did mean to have a go at steering it, but ended up sitting out back in a fold-up chair reading the Sunday supplements, The Man was Captain Seadog at the helm, spotting jellyfish, a line out the back for any fish capable of doing 5 knots.   The sea was turquoise and the coastline was a dazzling green.  We motored a couple of miles round into The Bay.  “We did say we’d moor up and have ice creams,” I reminded The Man.  He headed back Up River.  “The batteries needed a spin anyway.”

We reached a Yacht Harbour and moored on a pontoon.  “I can climb off on my own!” insisted Son 1. He wanted to tie us up and to untie us.  He wanted to play with the fenders, trying to yank them out at just the point a 24 foot boat could crush a Little Boy Arm against the concrete.  He never seems quite so keen to help out and learn at home. Son 2 was just as bad, wanted to walk without his reins and without holding my hand. “You walk on your reins or I pick you up,” I said. He walked on his reins. Son 1 chose a Twister, Son 2 chose a chocolate Mini Milk.  I was reminded of why I only ever let Son 1 have strawberry or vanilla. We went into a Chandlery. Sticky fidget fingers were everywhere and into everything.   On the pontoon, we put out some crab lines. A slow start, but we got 20, with Son 1 as usual doing the hauling in, netting and tipping out into the buckets.  “And me! And me!” said Son 2, walking all the lines together with his fat little legs. A Business Acquaintance of The Man’s came and sat on The Boat.  We all had a beer and basked in the sun.

Back home, Son 1 wanted another picnic.  “Which do you want, to watch telly or have a picnic?” “A picnic! With my Peter Pan flags!”  The Man, Son 1 and Son 2 went out to hand out skulls and crossbones, and Peter Pan bunting.  ”Tay Bears!” called Son 2. “Tay Bears.” The big bag full of cuddly toys came down. I made steak and chips from scratch in half an hour flat.  Son 1 still won’t eat oven chips or stringy chips. Doesn’t like them. Not as nice as Mummy’s. Which, girls, are made by putting a baking tray coated with olive oil into a mark 7 oven, cutting potatoes into chips, microwaving them for seven minutes (with a shake up half way,) drying them off and then coating them in the hot oil from the tray and shoving then in the top of the oven for 10 - 15 minutes to brown off.  Outside on the ground the Captain Hook table cloth was screwed up and the teddies were everywhere.     The boys wanted to eat their meals sitting down with the teddies. We let them. After, they played a kick/hit the balloons game with two of Son 2’s birthday balloons and The Man. The sound of their giggles, shrieks and laughter rang out.  “Son 1, you’re so tired,” said The Man, after Son 1 missed and fell again. He sprang up:”I’m not tired, I’m just happy.”

1.  Congestion

2.  Consumption

3.  Commotion

I have still got this bogging cold.  I have to hold my forehead  to stop my head exploding every time I cough - weirdie look, especially with my other hand in front of my mouth to prevent germs spraying. I am stone deaf apart from the crisp packets someone’s crinkling up in each ear, my nose is streaming, I wheeze when I breathe, my face is fat, I can’t swallow and every time I take a step in my clippy-cloppy shoes it hurts my head. But I do not have a temperature so it is Nothing Serious.   We have a Swine Flu Strategy at The Office which involves Not Going In If You Don’t Feel Well To Protect The Health Of Your Colleagues.  So I had a day of people telling me to Sod Off.    But I have Thursday and Friday off for Son 2 aged 23m’s birthday and no matter how hard I hope the work just doesn’t do itself.   And no I can’t work from home because there is a child and a Nanny there.  And God said: “Have a read of Active Conversations on Mumsnet and Stop Complaining.”  So I have. And I will.

Son 1 aged 4y 11m arrived in the Big Bed during the night. I woke at 0630 and went downstairs to make coffee, lunches, breakfasts and put a pile of work and school things together.  I got up Son 1 and Son 2 and they ate Coco Pops.  Son 1 and I set off and got to School on time. “We’ve been hearing a lot about his Fish Tank,” said the Teaching Assistant. “We’ll have to have a photo when it’s up and running.”  Son 1 sat and quietly did puzzles while we talked about him. At lunchtime I went out in search of decongestants and accidentally ended up in TK MAxx.  Stocking fillers for the boys’ brithdays. And trousers, a shirt and a red-stickered cashmere top for me.  There was a beautiful CK coat there but it was, sadly, Too Tight In The Bodice.

I picked Son 1 up and we drove home. “I need a poo,” he said, matter-of-factly, about half-way back.  “Can you wait till we get home?” “No.”  “Can you hold on till Asda?”  A loud, long farting noise came from the backseat.  We stopped in a picnic area.  He’d already peeled off his shoes and socks.  I improvised with an old FT from my briefcase and a Waitrose mag for him to stand on.   He was interminably slow dressing again and getting back in the car.  Back home he sprang inside to find The Man and Son 2 and I posted his efforts in the dog mess bin opposite. i bathed Son 2; he stayed downstairs with The Man working on the Fish Tank. Then I read him Tabby McTat - the new Julia Donaldson and Axel Scheffler book which we’ve bought Son 2 for Friday. “Do you think he’ll like it?” I asked Son 1. “It’s a bit more complicated than the others.” “He’ll love it,” he said.   When i finally came down after putting them both to bed, the Fish Tank had water in it, the light was on and bubbles were floating about.  We were right. It is going to be good for our stress.

1.  Ravening Beasts

2.  Dolphins

3.  Little Cherub

A grindingly long day on the Trade Stand.  At a coastal Trade Show, so The Man decided to take Son 1 aged 4y 11m and Son 2 aged 23m.  He’d arranged to see another family there so he’d still have someone to look after him.  But it meant getting up and out Early.  After a long summer of boys in pyjamas in front of the telly, snacking on tubs, having breakfast when they liked, it came as a shock.  But we made it out, on time, using it as a dry run for Thursday, when we’ll have to do it all again for School.  Son 2 passed out in the car almost straight away, Son 1 hung on until we were nearly there. I was then glued to the Stand, the family went wandering. Son 2 was tricky to start off with because he didn’t want to leave me. But they apparently had a blast. A fire engine, a pirate stall, food stalls, marine stalls, musicians, singers and all kinds of boating displays in the adjacent harbour. It heaved with people. The Other Family arrived, and we sent them off in search of The Man and the boys.  An Organiser came up to check everything was ok with us. “Fine,” I said. “How about you? Are you pleased?”  “Oh yes. Apart from having to get Security down to a fight between the Toffee Apple seller and Olde Sweetes next door.”

Late Afternoon and The Man, Son 1 and Son 2 were kicking their heels nearby. A colleague rang from the harbourside. “There’s a pod of dolphins playing with the lifeboats!”   An offshore lifeboat and an inshore RIB were supposed to be doing a display with a Navy helicopter in the sea outside the harbour wall.  The helicopter hadn’t turned up - too misty or busy elsewhere.   But who cares… we got to hang over the wall and watch five or six dolphins within 50 feet, surfacing, jumping, surfing.  Both lifeboats manoeuvred slowly back and forth. the dolphins jumping ahead of their bows and across their wakes.  Jet skiers who had been zooming up and down the inner harbour arrived and started playing with them.   We left before the dolphins. The Man had put Son 1’s milkshake in the pocket of his shorts. Then Son 2 had taken a dive… the milkshake erupted, and The Man had to remove marshmallow, milk and ice cream mix from his phone. 

At bathtime, Son 2 just wanted to “Tork.”  “Lifeboat. Monkey. Waved.”  “Yes. You saw a lifeboat with a man on it wearing a giant lifeboatman head and it looked just like a monkey. And he waved, didn’t he?”  “Dol dols. Lifeboat. Bikes. On Sea. On Wah wah.” “Yes, you saw the lifeboats and the dolphins and the jet skis that looked just like motorbikes.  Did you like the dolphins?” “Yes.  Lifeboat. Monkey. Waved. Me.”  He waved his hand.  “Dol Dol. Bikes.” He zoomed his hand in and out of the bubbles in his bath. ”Would you like to stand up please, like a good boy so I can wash your bottom?” “No. Tork.  Lifeboat. Monkey. Waved.” He was still trying to discuss the dol dols as I lay him down in his cot.