1.  Spellbound

2.  The Evil Queen

3.  New Lamps For Old

And again, I couldn’t get them up.  I have decided to Be Positive and Not Take This Personally.  It is getting darker in the mornings. That is why Son 1 aged 5 and Son 2 aged 2 are struggling in the mornings. Still, it gave me time to tumble dry Son 1’s school shorts. Which he sprayed yoghurt on in the car on the way home yesterday. Bloody Frubes again. So. I was Mrs Perfect Housewife and had them cleaned, dried and ready to be worn when I finally tow-trucked him out of bed this morning. He tipped milk down them when he was having his breakfast.   

Mrs Perfect Housewife turned into Mother From Hell this afternoon.  I picked up Son 1, who was leaping and laughing because we were going to the Joke Shop in The Town to see if they have a magic kit.  A reward for coming home with Heavenly Photos.  Son 1 wants a magic wand.  I agreed, thinking he wanted one of the ones he sees at parties - rigid in the hands of the magician, floppy when the children hold it.  Since saying ‘yes’ it has slowly dawned on me that he thinks a magic wand is… er.. magic. Anyway. Outside The House. Heading for The Town.  “I want to ride in the Pram.” “Darling you’re five, you’re too big. And anyway, Son 2’s in the Pram.” “Wark.”  “No, you go in the Pram, then we can get to the shop before it closes.”  “Wark.”  “Oh all right, but you’ll have to wear your reins. And walk, Son 2, no, don’t stop to look at a feather. If you want to walk, then walk. Son 1, I cannot manage you in the Pram and Son 2 on the reins. Son 2 will you walk! Put the stone down!  If you don’t walk you’re getting in the Pram…”  So.  I stuffed Son 2 in the Big Pram “Wark! Wark!” He cried and  corkscrewed and twisted himself out. Everytime he got out, Son 1 got in. I put Son 2 back in. He screeched so loudly people on the other side of the street stopped talking to look over.  And so I marched us all home, with Son 1 crying and begging to be allowed to go to the Joke Shop. At home I stripped Son 2, put him in his sleeping bag (to stop him climbing) pulled the blinds down and shoved him in the cot. Gave Son 1 a vast chocolate bar to stop him crying and poured a large glass of white wine. 

Son 2 and I are also developing a battle of the wills over toilet training. He wants to give it a go. I have just bought 132 nappies in two big boxes. “Wee wee!” “Oh, do it in your nappy.”  “Want loo. Want pot pot.”  He did another poo in the loo this evening.  I wanted to lie on the bed reading books to him. He wanted to get up and wee in the potty every five minutes. I have run out of chocolate buttons. Which should slow the little beggar down a bit.  I got them to bed and then sorted out the recycling.  Two birthday teas, two birthdays and a huge party have passed since the last collection. We have generated mountains of cardboard, paper and bottles.  I have positioned our pile far down The Terrace. To make it easier for the recycling men to load it on the lorry, of course.

1.  Just before the dawn

2.  Sunday morning party

3.  Lunch at Nanna’s

We did better this morning.  Both boys in their own beds at 0615, when Son 2 aged 1 called, and Son 1 aged 3y 11m up appeared instantly as soon as he heard us next door.  It’s the light of course.  We spent the summer with a tatty old blanket wedged into the top of the blind in Son 2’s room, asking ourselves, baffled, why he was waking at 5am.  And now it’s not dawn till 0630, guess what.  Zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.     

Slightly more sedate getting out the house today.  We had a party, then over to Nanna’s for lunch.  It made a huge difference not having to pack a picnic, although I did put in milk, fromage frais, water, a jar and raisins for Son 2.  I have had now had the picnic bag out five days in a row, which has, oddly, pleased me.  I like to feel we’ve been gadding  about instead of dusting and straightening ornaments.  (And lordy lordy does it show.)  The party was great.  Son 1 charged around, chivvying, running, calling… playing with four or five of the friends from his Old Nursery.  Son 2 played on the slide, played with the swing ball, played in the sand pit, played with the bubbles, gazed at the balloons, balanced and wobbled on his feet - to admiring applause from the other mums, and had a blast.  Son 1 wore his Captain Hook outfit for face painting, with me thinking he would emerge with an eyepatch and a beard.  No.  A blue face with a black mask.   The Blue Power Ranger, apparently.  Maybe this is the week we move on from pirates.  

Then over to Nanna’s.  Very late.  Younger Sister had started warming up the food to start without us.  Son 1 said he wasn’t hungry.  Son 2 had eaten half a jar, strawberries, banana and various other nibbles.  So it was just the three of us.  “That’s everything except the sausages,” said Younger Sister.  “Sausages?” said Son 1. “Are they veggie sausages?”  “No,” said Nanna.  “They’re for you and me.”  Son 1 pulled up a chair.  Then Son 2 decided he wanted more lunch too, and ate the rest of his jar.    The two of them trashed Nanna’s lounge.  Son 1 got blue face paint on the front of  her sofa, Son 2 smeared vegetable noodles on the back.  Son 1 tried on all her glasses.  Son 2 tried biting the bulbs and the birdfood.  Son 1 went in the garden, Son 2 went up the stairs.  Son 1 threw the loo roll in the bath. Back home they had dips for tea.  Son 1 said “This pepper is really sweet, thank you mummy.” Son 2 got hummous everywhere, but enjoyed it.  I tried rinsing blue face paint out of Captain Hook’s lace and collar.