1.  The Odd One Out

2.  Baby Bonding

3.  Storm Force

Again, the scrum to get Son 1 aged 4y 2m to Nursery.  I’d meticulously left everything out last night.  We left home on time; we got there easily.  We had to park nearby, because I had to haul in the car seat for The MAn to do the pick up on his way back through.  As we walked along we saw more and more other mums dropping their children off.  There were party dresses, Thunderbirds outfits, Power Rangers, jeans, sweatshirts… and only one little boy in his uniform.  Oh Dear.  Son 1 was unbothered.  “Silly Mummy,” he said, clutching his Rudolf The Red-Nosed Reindeer cuddly toy.  Back in the car I found his Captain Hook hat, and went back into the Nursery to give it to him.  He was wearing a Santa Hat and carrying a sack race bag.  He would have loved to spent the day at Nursery in his Captain Hook outfit.  Silly Mummy.

Wonder Nanny had a funeral, so I ran round at work and then pelted out again to get home in time.  Mr Wonder Nanny was parked opposite the house with the engine running when I arrived.  I gave him a cheery wave.  I got some work done while Son 2 aged 15m was asleep, but after that there was no point. It was very nice to have some time with him.  We played farms, we got out books he pointed at, we did some washing.  He hugged his highchair and cried; I got the hint and gave him a snack.  We giggled and tickled and cuddled.  Son 1 and The Man arrived home, Son 1 in a too-small pirate outfit borrowed from the Dressing Up Rack.  He flopped down on the floor grumpily, knackered after the Nursery Christmas Party.  The Man had bought some Ben 10 Top Trumps as a present for Son 1, and soon he was sitting on the floor looking at them while Son 2 was picking cards and waddling off with them.

The Office Christmas Party.  At an attraction we visit sometimes with the boys. There is the tourists’ route, sign-posted, huge roads, a long way round.  And there is another route.  Unsignposted, narrow, winding and much much quicker.  Every time we go I take the short cut, and every time I get lost.  In daylight.  Tonight there was a severe weather warning. 4cm of rain expected, gail force winds.  Driving alone, I took the short cut.  In driving rain, pitch black, winds that buffeted the car.  No visibility despite windscreen washers on doublespeed.  Great deep pools of water across the road.  Branches down… at times I couldn’t see the sides of the road let alone which side I was meant to be driving on.  I got lost.  I didn’t know which way round I was.  I got there in the end - everyone had finished their starters.  It was fun.  As I left at the end I could hear a train coming towards the building.  It was the sound of the storm-force wind on the roof.  On the way back I went to the 24 hour Tesco and bought washing powder, soap, bleach and nappies.

1.  Get Me Out Of Bed

2.  Get Me Out Of This Museum

3.  Get Me Out Of The Garden And The Bath

Son 2 aged 14m slept till 0630.   Wah Wah Wah.  I went down and snugged in to bed with him.  He wanted to get up.  He span round and round in his sleeping bag till he was trussed up like a fly in a web Wah Wah Wah.  I took his sleeping bag off and That Was It.  I gave up at the point where I was lying down and holding on to his legs as he locked himself horizontally, laughing, hands death-gripping the cot rails to stop me pulling him back into the bed.  We Were Getting Up.  He is iron-willed, he is physical, he is strong and he is clever.  There’s always boarding school.

We went to The Museum with our Wednesday Friends.  Son 2 had a nap, so we got there late.  One Mum was on her way out for the school pick up.  Son 1 and his Friend crayoned. Son 2 tipped the crayons out, finger-walked, and headed for the glazed walls Trying To Get Out.  We had the Captain Hook costume under The Big Pram.  The Friend put it on, suggesting Son 1 be Peter Pan.  Son 1 was not going to be Peter Pan, although he did tell Son 2 he could be Mr Smee.  I did lots of Turn Taking/How Kind/Good Sharing stuff.   Son 1 wanted his outfit back.

We went to a pizza place for lunch, The Man joined us briefly and Son 1 ate well.  We got back and the children played in the front garden.  I finger-walked with Son 2, who held onto the railings, threw the gravel into the pavement, pointed at the dogs and Awowed at the passers by.  Son 1 played on the pavement outside, Son 2 tried to work out the gate latch.  A Mum we know went past with a double buggy, toddler asleep, baby awake.  We chatted.  Son 2 fell over and cut his lip, his mouth bleeding.  Nanna came and I did sausage, mash and peas for tea. Son 2 melted down with tiredness. We put him in the bath and he wouldn’t sit down, howling, reaching, lifting up his legs and looking for a foothold. I have been so desperate to be with my baby, and he has spent my entire day off trying to leave home.

1.  Getting A Goal Back

2.  The Hall in the Squall

3.  A Lovely Boy

Grim, grisly, gruesome night.  I went to bed late and Son 2 aged 14 months woke howling at around 2am.  Around because I knew he was crying, but thought it was the morning and The Man would get him.  The Man snored by my side.  At 2.30am I snapped awake, looked at the clock and went down.  I think Son 2 is still suffering from the MMR - he’s still got his rash - so I gave him calpol and water, cuddled him, put the fan on and then did head-in-the-cot.  At 0310 I gave up.  Too tired and needed to go to bed.  I called The Man down, he got into bed with Son 2, I went upstairs to sleep.   One to Son 2.

Son 1 aged 4y 2m had a 4th birthday party - a child from Nursery - 20+ miles away on the other side of The Big Town.  We arrived at the Village Hall as a freezing squall blew in.  Two other families there, and no other cars.  In the (empty) hall, we compared notes.  I had the invitation in the car.  Back into the squall.  Son 2’s thin wisps looked Brylcreamed to his head.  We needed the Church Hall. Off we went, us in the front of the convoy.  Into the right Hall.  Say hello to Birthday Girl’s Dad.  There’s the changing bag, there’s the baby food bag.  Where’s the present?  Son 1 went in, Son 2 and I went back to the car.  Back at the Village Hall, there was a Mother, on foot, with small daughter, looking for the party.  I explained.  ”I thought it was strange,” she said.  “There was nobody here, but there was a present on the table with Birthday Girl’s name on it.”  The squall whipped our faces.  They got in my car.  Sand. Feathers. Pine cones. Leaves. Dried out baby wipes. Breadstick crumbs.  Two pairs of posh pointy shoes for The Office.  Hell.

Back at the party I took Son 2 to sit on the side, at the front, thinking he would enjoy the balloons.  There was a magician, with 15 small children sitting on the floor gazing up at him.  In the front row was Son 1, the only child in fancy dress. Captain Hook.  The Magician asked for a helper. Up shot Son 1’s hand.  Up he went.  He laughed, he giggled, he yes-ed, he no-ed, he laughed again, spellbound.  Back he went.  I watch him in profile for the rest of the act.  Face tilted up, eyes dancing, smiling, laughing, calling out.   “A lovely boy…” clad in a red tailcoat with lace at the sleeves, “but the most entrancing thing about him was that he had all his first teeth.”  That first teeth smile in profile, backlit from the windows high above him, was heaven.

1.  Pre-match

2.  Kick off

3.  Post-match

Another grim night.  Son 2 aged 1 was hot, fretful, unsettled. He was in his cot at 0045 when he woke  needing a nappy change - and that was that.  I couldn’t get him back to sleep.  By 0330 I was giving him Calpol and water.  Then he needed another nappy change.  If he gets a long sleep this morning, he’ll still be able to enjoy The Party, I thought.  He didn’t.  I got him back to sleep over breakfast, but Son 1 aged 3y 11m, beside himself with excitement, was making up party bags at 7am.    And woke Son 2.  We wheeled them both in The Town for some last-minute stuff we needed… and went 3/4 of a mile to the cheap department store.  And all the way back.  But Son 2, eyes hanging, head lolled over in The Pram, cheeks hot and red, didn’t sleep.

The party was great.  Really good.  20 children - everyone we invited except one who’d got a better offer and two who’d gone camping on the only nice day we’ve had all year.     A whacking great bouncy castle - me and The Man had a go before everyone arrived (harder work than it looks,) a nursery nurse leading games, various children from Son 2 up to a 6 year old in various costumes, and a great spread of mums with four dads.  Son 1 was in his Captain Hook outfit and bounced and ran and played and laughed and chased and danced.  I was needed three times.  To ask if he could take his (Captain Hook) socks off (yes;)  to complain that he wasn’t finding anything first in the Treasure Hunt (no action: an important Lesson of Life;) to ask if he could go and play when everyone was still eating their tea (don’t you want to wait for for your birthday cake?)  We had a Peter Pan cake, black skull and crossbone cupcakes and party bags with Peter Pan finger puppets in.

Son 2, I can safely say, had a miserable time.  He was tired, hot, and not at all in the mood.  I carried him around with me all afternoon.  He ate a tiny breadstick, some strawberries and some grapes - great food for nappy rash.  But all he wanted was to be with me and go to sleep.  His Godmother was brilliant, sorted out drinks for grown ups, arranged the food, did small people drinks when they were all gasping… cut cake, wrapped it in napkins, and put it in party bags.  After Son 2 poo-ed on my hand I thought I’d better keep away from the food.  I am worried about him.  I’m going to sleep with him tonight in the hope he gets better quicker.  Son 1 came back exhausted.  I’d told him he could open Son 1’s presents, as his birthday has been, but not his own. “Is this Son 2’s?  Is this Son 2’s”  You’re nearly four years old now child, learn to read your own name.  I didn’t say. (He did surprise us this morning, by writing a perfect initial when we asked him if he could.  Tum ti tum.  Didn’t learn that at the knee of his highly-educated mother.)  In bed I asked him if he’d enjoyed his party.  “Yes. But we had to come home too soon.”  As I write this there are fireworks across the river.  Might have to have those next year as well.      

1. Nightime Action

2. Morning Action

3. Afternoon Action

4. Evening Action

A truly awful night.  The Man was leaving at 3am for his Business Trip flight.   Son 2 aged 1 woke up when we tried to go to bed and then nothing, but nothing would make him settle.  The Man left.  And the three of us slept till 0745, which is very late for us.  I didn’t rush getting up, because we had nothing on for today, and I thought we should have a quiet one.  Then Younger Sister rang from The Hospital.  Nanna was in and she had to ring at 12 to see how she was.  She was coming over.

We went down to The Festival again.  Son 1 aged 3y 11m in his Captain Hook outfit again.  It’s a long old walk, so we had Son 2 aged 1 in The Big Pram, sleeping it off, and Son 1 in the buggy with his hook and his sword.  We saw some friends, with their 2 year old in the buggy, also dressed as a pirate.   They ran round together.  The friends had to go. We walked up and down looking at the attractions, Son 1 and I queued for one for just a few minutes, got on and then had a much better time than yesterday.  Son 2 screamed.  Younger Sister, performing valiantly, offered him cocktail sausage, sandwich and breadstick.  He went for apple.  When Son 1 and I got off he ate nearly an entire banana in a few seconds.  Many, many people asked to take Son 1’s photo.  Younger Sister rang The Hospital.  She needed to get Nanna at 2pm.  So we needed to leave.  The weather was truly awful and we (the grown ups) got very wet.  The boys were in their buggy bubbles and were fine.

When we got back Son 1 played with the new toy he’d blagged off Younger Sister.  I hung out the washing while Son 2 played in the kitchen.  I heard him doing baby singing.  I wonder if he’s got the Nursery Rhyme finger puppets, I thought, and started singing “Twinkle Twinkle Little Star” from the hall.  When I went back in to the kitchen, Son 2 was playing with the Nursery Rhyme puppets.  Sweetest Boy.  And then Son 1 materialised.  He’d heard Mummy singing and had deduced that Son 2 was getting Mummy Time.  And was downstairs in a heartbeat to claim his.  Son 2 has been balancing on two feet a lot today, and then plopping down on his bottom with a proud grin.  Showing two new teeth which have just cut through.  I must, I must, give him the benefit of the doubt at night-time.

Nanna’s angiogram was fine.   Son 1 made it onto the regional telly news.  I’d invited our friends to the house to watch the Festival fireworks.  They rang to say they couldn’t come, as he was feeling ill.  Son 1 cried and cried.  We decided that however tired he was, I would wake him in time for the fireworks.  At 9pm, while I was washing up and drinking yesterday’s champagne, the friends texted. Feeling better.  Coming now.  I woke Son 1 but he never really came round.  Wouldn’t watch the fireworks.  Which were lovely.  We finished the champagne. 

1. One Year

2. The Event

3. Birthday Tea

Son 2’s first birthday.  The year has whizzed by.  The first three or four months in an up-all-hours washine-machine-non-stop blur of reflux… then two months of preparing to go back to The Office… then six months back at work.  Son 2 is a delight; determined, opinionated, joyful, adoring, and independent.  Almost mobile - he was tanking up and down the kitchen on the pushalong trolley today, solving all his falling-down problems and getting up again.   We gave him a little wooden music centre with an inbuilt drum, chimes, xylophone and other rattles, cymbals, scrapers and bells.  Son 1 aged 3 y 11m gave him a plastic ambulance.  Two books (from last night,) a crocodile castanet and a drum with clacky beads on it, and a little woooden tool kit. Son 1 could not help unwrapping the presents.  Wonder Nanny gave him a little remote control car - in the hope that his very own remote control might stop him from pinching ours all the time.

We went down to the Festival again.  Again, with Son 1 in his Captain Hook outfit.  We queued for 45 minutes for one of the attractions, and then were supposed to wait even more while they let a school party on.  I complained, and we were allowed on with the school party.  I had to bribe him to smile nicely for a picture.  Yes I know that’s the road to early death. The wind again was wild, which made everything cold and difficult.  Son 1 got quite into it, and then ran up and down the tarmac jumping in and out of puddles.  We gave Son 2 his lunch, and pushed the boys back, stopping off for balloons on the way back.

We had a birthday tea, the Wednesday friends, Nanna, Younger Sister,  Son 2’s Godmother and the Godmother’s son.  At 20 past 3 I remembered I hadn’t picked up the cake.  It was very good, little building blocks with the letters of Son 2’s name on it, icing, ribbons, writing.  Son 1 couldn’t keep his hands off it.  We had the candle moved and a little fingerprint scoop.  The Friends turned up on the dot of 4 o’clock, when Son 2 and I had barely finished making the Get Well Soon card for Nanna who’s got an angiogram tomorrow.  Which meant the carrots weren’t washed.  Which meant the only vegetable matter served was red pepper and grapes.  Son 2 had: an octopus bath toy; some Peter Rabbit books.  A singing robin.  A squirty bus. Some wooden diggers.  Six Fisher Price building blocks.  Some Nursery Rhyme finger puppets.   The Little Friends trashed the house and toys; the grown ups chatted, and occasionally wondered who was upstairs In Goal.  Champagne was drunk. Happy Birthday was sung.   The Cake was devoured.  Six building blocks, six small boys.  I put the one with Son 2’s initial and “1″  on his highchair tray and he had reduced it to its atomic components by the time I’d finished giving the other five out.  We lost the brother of the child we lost yesterday.  Only this time he’d shut himself in the loo and was just taking a very long time indeed to do his stuff.  Fathers arrived, had beer, ate cake.  It wasn’t a party of course, because there is a joint party a week on Saturday.  But it was an event.  Because Mummy wanted an event.

1. Siesta 

2. Fiesta

3. Blessed

Son 2 aged 11m slept through the night.  Tum ti tum.  He’s been in a 1 Tog sleeping bag the whole summer.  Because he cannot overheat or He Will Die A Cot Death.   He’s pooed in one and the other is in the wash so last night he was in a 2.5 Tog.  And didn’t murmer.  Tum ti tum.  Maybe the cry I thought meant “Where are you all?  Come Baaaaaaaack” meant “Bring warm plump parents I am freeeeeeeeeeeeeeezing.”    

There is another Festival in The Town, the roads are closed, the flags are out, there are stalls and music everywhere, so we off we went  to meet the Wednesday Friends.  Son 1 aged 3 y 11m walked all the way through town in his Captain Hook outfit.  “And why did he get that?” said one mother, witheringly.  Because Mummy needed to see if it fitted (= couldn’t wait to see what he looked like in it.)  And was then unable to get it off him. The children played in the Museum; we went into the Marquee so I could feed Son 2.  A swing band started up, Son 2 really enjoyed it and kept pointing.  We lost a child, we found him.  Son 1 went in The Big Pram and fell asleep.  Son 2 was in the sling - another advantage to his being small. I walked them back and Son 2 stayed awake all the way.  At home he walked up and down the kitchen on Son 1’s ELC wooden trolley.  With his grapefruit smile and his hearty chuckle. 

I ran round the Headland tonight.  I went through The Town so I could see what was going on for the Festival.  And I guessed the Bookshop would stay open late and I wanted to get a couple of last-minute presents for Son 2.  It was gloomy, grey, windy and wet.  I wore tracksters and a long sleeved top - bought by the pre-children me in Fort William, on my 40th, “to wear when the baby is here to get my figure back.”  But I was over-hot, so I think I’ll go back to shorts.  The Headland was misty and drizzly with a wind at the Far Point that slammed into you like a train.  I remembered the evening I walked round it crying in the darkness after the miscarriage.  And I remembered the evenings BC when I ran round it in the pitch black, with the occasional sweep of the lighthouse on the Headland Opposite the only light.  And then I got home, and we wrapped Son 2’s presents, and toasted him with a glass of Cava, because the champagne wasn’t cold enough.  We’ve done the first year, and we have another heavenly child.

1.  A lie-in

2. Flesh and blood

3. Captain Hook

The good news is I got a lie in this morning because Son 2 aged 11m didn’t wake up till 8am.   However.  He slept in because he was up for HOURS.  He’s got Son 1 aged 3y 11m’s cough.  He doesn’t seem to have the fever, but he’s still very uncomfortable. I wish I could be a bit more forgiving at 4am when I’ve been up since 6am the previous day.  But I kissed him, dumped in his cot, said bye bye, closed the door so I couldn’t hear the ROOAARR and went downstairs.  I made a cup of tea, wrote some birthday cards, copied out Son 1’s New Nursery dates onto the calendar, hung out some washing, drank my tea, went back upstairs… And he’d stopped crying and gone to sleep.  

I fed Son 2 while Son 1 hopped up and down, trying to cuddle his brother, trying to get on my knee, trying to do anything to get attention.  “Why don’t you tell daddy not to empty the dishwasher till he’s brought my coffee up?”  I suggested, helpfully, thinking that would send him padding down 2 flights of stairs.  Son 1 walked to the top of Flight 2.  “DADDEEE. DON’T EMPTY THE DISHWASHER.”  Then there were little sorry-for-himself whining noises from the landing.  Back in he hopped, blood all over his hands, streaming from his nose.  Are there any other children who give themselves really bad nosebleeds by shouting?  It’s his second one in four days, and the other one was caused by a high-pitched shriek.  I suppose I should be grateful he hasn’t shattered any glassware yet.

My ebay bid was a flop, because after I got outbid, I couldn’t work out how to top the higher bid that kept appearing.  I have consulted a Young Thing at The Office who explained what I needed to do.  (”It’s easy.  My husband and I went on a diving holiday last year from the money we made on eBay.”)  Anyway.  The object of my heart’s desire was a Captain Hook outfit, aged 3- 4.  I ordered it full price on Sunday and it arrived today.  I had to let Son 1 try it on to … see if it fits.  He looked fantastic, and he was just so happy.  Bouncing on the bed in it, looking in the mirror.  “Ha-harr.  Give me the treasure lady.”  I gave Son 2 a toy sword, and he gave his huge grin and held it out to touch Son 1’s.  And then whacked me round the head with it, laughing.  He has spent his entire infancy watching Son 1 fencing using swords, sticks, dracaena leaves, wrapping-paper middles, lolly sticks, pencils… So of course he knew exactly what to do when he finally got a toy sword in his little baby fist…     

1.  Mother’s Tired, She Needs a Rest

2.  House of Fun

3.  Embarrassment

We got the children to bed at 1815 yesterday.  Which meant Son 2, the 11 month old who can tell the time, woke up at 0515.  I changed him.  No poo, so  I put him in one of the plasticky nappies we bought him in Portugal in May when we ran out.  I don’t like them much.  Too hot for him. Give him nappy rash.  And, even though it’s Son 2 and he’s not very big, they are too small for him.  But it was only for a couple of hours till he did his poo.  Fed him, both sides,  and put him back to sleep, next to me on the downstairs double bed.  The Man came down at 0720, and lay on the other side of the sleeping baby.  A lovely lie in.  The Man went downstairs and came back with tea, coffee, pineapple juice and apple rings for the boys.  Son 1 aged 3 y 10m woke up and came in with us.  Son 2 still asleep, so Son 1 snugged next to him, putting his arms around him, stroking his face “Ah, Son 2, I love you, you’re so soft.”

Son 2 woke up and did his lovely four-up, three-down smile.  The Man said he needed his nappy changing. “Oh you do it,” I said.  “I want my coffee.”  The Man unzipped the sleeping bag.  “He’s not wearing a nappy!”  “Yes he is,” I said. “One of the holiday nappies.”  Only Son 2 wriggles a lot when he’s going to sleep.  And he’d wriggled his way out of the cheap nappy that doesn’t fit.  Filled his sleeping bag with poo, and then paddled his legs up and down in it.  Fake tanned his legs and lower body an authentic-looking orange-brown.  A couple of hours before.  Nicely dried.  A bewildered baby in the bath.  And then his first shower.  Which made him laugh.

The Man rang me at work. Could I get the children.  I don’t usually get them from nursery, and when I got there Son 2 was in the arms of Son 1’s favourite nursery nurse.  And he didn’t cry when he saw me.  Just laughed and reached out his hands.  Son 1 raided Son 2’s food bag, which was where the nursery nurses had put the cakes he’d made.  He was allowed one in the car.  “Mummy are you going to look for a Captain Hook costume for me?”  We chatted about costumes until we were nearly home when he said “Mummy, you embarrass me.”  He said it as if he was trying out the word to see what would happen.  So I said “Oh I know darling, when I pretend I think you want a Peter Pan costume, just to make you say you want a Captain Hook costume, that’s embarrassing, isn’t it?”    Which is worse  - a clueless mother embarrassing her child, or a clueless mother trying not to embarrass her child.  I’m sure, in good time, that he’ll let me know.

1.  Birthday presents

2.  Birthday tea

3.  The Parade

4.  Peter Pan

5.  Birthday meal

It’s The Man’s birthday. Son 1 aged 3 y 10m opened all the presents, Son 2 aged 10m scrunched and ate the paper.  Son 1 unwrapped an iPod and various add-on bits,  clearly having no idea what they were all for.  A bit like his parents.    Another part of The Man’s present was when I took both boys into town in heavy rain to buy snacks and drinks, so he could read his iPod instructions.  We bought bread-and-cheese-straws-and-grapes-and-ham-and-smoked-salmon-and-quiche-and-garlic-bread-and-juice-and-milk.  But then Son 2 wanted his lunch, so we had to start back.  Son 1, acted up at the idea of skipping the balloon shop - for him the entire point of the trip into The Town.  So, despite a laden pram and a loudly miaowing infant, we dripped into the balloon shop.  Son 1 chose a farming Happy Birthday balloon for him, and a Thomas the Tank Engine one for The Man.    The balloons were filled with helium, and then we started up the hill home.  It rained and rained.  By the time we got back, the balloons had so much water on them they were floating only hip high.

A two and a half year old, and his parents, and Friend aged Five, and his parents, invited round for cake and snacks.  My idea was the children would sit down and have an early tea ahead of The Parade, while the grown ups drank Buck’s Fizz.  The boys ran riot on floors 1 and 2, while the adults and Son 2 sat downstairs and ate the birthday tea and gossiped.  They returned only for the lighting of the 12 candles on the Caterpillar Cake.  Son 1 and 2.5 year old were being lobsters in The Parade - the startlingly good, funny and very realistic costumes made by 2.5’s mother.  We were all supposed to be meeting at 5.30pm in The Park.  But it rained, and rained and rained.  The mist rolled in over the river so we could barely see the water… it rolled out again.  “It’s clearing,” we all said. It rolled in again.  And then it bucketed down so hard the rain bounced 8 inches high back off the shed roof.

2.5 year old’s parents took Son 1 and me to The Park while The Man pushed Son 2 in the buggy.  It was still very wet.  We dressed the lobsters, and they looked fantastic.  We were walking in front of a giant octopus.  The 2.5 year old’s mum decided against wearing her limpet headdress - she thought it would come to pieces in the rain.  In front of us was a group of French revolutionaries, with pitchforks and guillotines.  Every so often during the parade they would stop and have someone’s head off.  Son 1 and the 2.5 year old were cheerfully shouting “Off off off off off” with the rest of them.  A kind revolutionary always positioned his fake barrel organ so they couldn’t quite see what was going on.  “Why are they waving those buns in the air?” asked Son 1.  Marie Antoinette.  With a plate of cakes on a bricklayer’s hod.      

The rain petered out, and the French Revolution stopped to cut off the head of someone in the crowd.   While we were waiting, five children plus grown up attendants stepped out from a shop porch  in front of us.  Wendy, Tinker Bell, Peter Pan, Tiger Lily, and, very small, and in an impeccable costume, Captain Hook.  How does that happen to me?  Son 1 has a lovely pirate captain’s outfit which he has already practised wearing for his Peter Pan birthday party. The only child in the land with a Peter Pan fixation, and behold! 5 perfect costumes sashay in front of us.    It started to rain again.  The Neverland team drifted off into another shop overhang and we were back with the revolutionaries.   Too late.  Son 1 had the poop-poop expression of Toad when he first sees a car.  “Mummy I want a Captain Hook outfit with long hair and a feather and a glass sword.”

Neverland aside, Son 1 made a great lobster.  Both of them were pointed at, waved to and aaaah-ed at.  He waved back like he was in a boy band, he splashed his tail and wellies in puddles.  He ran full pelt down the street to catch up the French Revolution when we had to wait for repairs to the Octopus.  He held out his collection bucket to everyone.  He blew his whistle in time to the Revolutionaries.  He danced to music from the barrell organ.   The costume-making genius and I had discussed how she could sell such outfits online.  After a cry of “Oh look at the little lobsters, I want one,” we realised we could sell the children too. 

Both lobsters were worn out and clingy by the end of The Parade, so we went straight home.  The Man and I just about got the boys to bed in time for the taxi to the restaurant where we were having his birthday meal. The other couple we were meeting were waiting for us, him in chatty NBF conversation with our ex-MP - unseated last time.  Great meal, good wine, a lot of fun, and a very nice evening.  The friends had bought me a birthday card.  Just a minor detail to get wrong.