1.  The First No

2.  Big Weld

3.  Ballet

4.  Superbug

Son 2 is Latin in his language acquisition.  His word for  ”yes” is “peeeez”, and he had no word for no, either shaking his head or pushing away with his hand.  This morning though, when I offered him some more milk, there was a clear, confident, grown up “no.” And then he went back to head-shaking and batting.  He looks awful.  Some chickenpox spot have scabbed; he’s picked some of the scabs off.  Great flaming red craters, each one with the potential to pock mark.  He at last ate something this morning.  He drank milk and ate hummous, grapes and banana.  He was clingy, tetchy, whining and tired. “All right,” I said. “We’ll put you back to bed.”  Then he threw up all over himself and the hall carpet. A great, chicken-soupy puddle.  Then over the kitchen floor.  I stripped him, put The Wiggles on upstairs and hunted for J cloths.  

They both came down within minutes.  Son 1 aged 4y 7m wanted his pancake.  It was straight out of the pan, cooling on a plate, but then I had to clear up after Son 2. ”Darling I can’t touch it while I’m clearing this up. If you want it, put your own lemon and maple syrup on. Just get your chair and get the lemon from the fridge.”  Clunk, as a little green Early Learning Centre chair was plonked against the freezer. Son 2 pulled baby wipes from the packed and stirred them into the water in the mop bucket.  Son 1 opened the fridge door, gazed in and sighed.  “Oh the lies I have told, the lives I have ruined.”     I looked up.  “Where’s that from?” “‘Robots.’” “Oh. Is it what the baddie says?” “No.  Big Weld says it when he meets the people.”  Of course he does.

Ankle deep in vomit, dirty washing, dirty floors, washing up and with a sick, clingy, crying baby,  I rang a Wednesday Mother.  “Are you better?  Can you have Son 1 this morning?” Yes she could. “Oh good, can you come and get him?”  Son 2 and I had a shower and I put him to bed.  He slept for three hours.  Son 1 was dropped back, scampering through the hall. “Son 2! Son 2!”  Still asleep.  Eventually I rang Wonder Nanny.  “Should I get him up?” “He’s never slept for three hours, even for me. His body clearly needs it. Just leave him.” He woke up within minutes, and wouldn’t eat lunch.  We went outside and played with the paddling pool.  I eventually found the puncture.  Son 1, naked,  pulled on one of the inflatable rings, wedged it round his hips just above his willy and pirouetted. “I’m a ballerina and this is my tutu!”  I took pictures for The Man.  

We went into The Town to find more calamine cream for Son 2. Superdrug didn’t have any.  We went into Marks. Son 2 threw up in the pram. I cleared him up in the ladies’ loo and we came home, Son 1 clambering on the Big Pram abover Son 2. Son 2 threw up in the lounge. I saved the soft furnishings by turning him round so he did it all over me.  I gave him white rice for his tea.  He threw up all over the kitchen. I put him to bed.  The Godmother, out for drinks in The Town, dropped off calamine cream from the Big Town and J cloths.

1.  Explorer

2.  Miracle Worker  

3.  Communicator

I worked long and late last night.  At midnight I heard coughing from upstairs, then creaking, then little mouse footprints. I peered up into the gloom. “Son 1, I can’t see you up there, it’s too dark. If you’re there, come on down.” A little wraith aged 4y 7m in white pyjamas plopped down the stairs.  I switched the computer off and we went downstairs to make my go-to-bed cup of peppermint tea. He wanted something to eat.  I gave him a yoghurt, and he sat at the dining table, scoffing it. Upstairs I put him in the Big Bed while I got ready for bed.  “I’m going to have a little read before I go to sleep,” I said, getting my book out.  “I want your eyebrow,” he said, his little fingers heading straight for it. I put the light out and fell asleep straight away. No idea what he did.

Son 2 aged 19m’s spots are starting to scab over, and he’s starting to pick them off.  He is using the “boh” sound he does for “Box” for his spots… gestures at his tummy and goes “Boh!”  “Are they sore?” I asked.  He nodded madly.  Poor, poor little cherub. Son 1 and I took out a library book with pictures of leopards, ladybirds, spotted fish, giraffes, peacocks, ocelots, dalmatians etc. It’s called “Lots Of Spots.” Well, we think it’s funny.   Wonder Nanny, who is Practically Perfect,  said “Aqueous Calamine Cream.  Only Superdrug sell it. Best thing for chickenpox.”  Son 2 has been so much better since we started slathering him in it.  His willy and groin area have calmed down a bit, but the spots are still raging.  The third nipple on his chest which started it all off is the size of a 5p.

I sat on the bed reading to Son 2 this morning.  For once, Son 1, upstairs watching cartoon nuclear wars on CITV, didn’t disturb us.  Oh no, spoke too soon.  Plodding down the stairs.   Carrying the phone to me.  The Man says he will be back tomorrow night.  He says his flights are booked. I will believe it when I see it.  Son 1 hadn’t finished with him and took the phone back.  “No more adventures, Daddy, if they’re going to take this long.”