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.”

1.  Four Good Things Before Breakfast

2.  V For Vaseline

3.  CuddleBlast

The Man and I both went to sleep on our own in the Big Bed last night.  This is a Good Thing.  For a while it’s seemed like one or other of us is in with a child from the off.  Son 2 aged 17m stayed in his own bed till 3am.  That’s a lot better than last night.  Tick. Another Good Thing.   I woke up in daylight, got up and he slept on,  so that’s actually only four hours in with a parent.  Son 1 aged 4y 4m stayed in his own bed all night. Four Good Things already and it was only 7am.  The Man and Son 1 were downstairs and pottering, Son 1 itching to decorate a biscuit.  I said he could do one for breakfast if he ate all his fruit tub first. 

Son 1 span out his tub for a good hour and a half, watching telly in the lounge. Son 2 and I read, had our shower and went downstairs for breakfast.  Son 2’s lip is still horrible, but now the swelling’s gone down it isn’t gaping as much as yesterday.  He’s still got his cold though, and wiping his nose - which was always a bit of a trauma - just made him weep.  So I spent today cleaning up snot, drying the wound and slathering vaseline on it.  Most mornings we have Tonic, Treat and Teeth.  Omega 3 vitamin medicine, a biscuit and then teeth cleaning.  They had their Tonic and were allowed to decorate their biscuits as their Treat.  They both stuffed their faces with the sprinkles and sugar balls, Son 2’s sticking to his vaseline.  Son 1 started squeezing the icing straight from the pen into his mouth.    His sprinkles stuck to the icing round his mouth.  Son 1 ate some of his biscuit.  Son 2 just licked the icing and sprinkles off.

We went for lunch with Son 2’s Godmother and Godsister, who had vouchers for Pizza Express.   Son 1 had a serious shyness episode.  Godsister had changed.  She wasn’t like she was before.  Godsister is a beautiful, willowy, 14.  Son 1 last saw her about 6m ago.  She’d got Very Big.  The boys did well at lunch - Son 2 was on great form.  Godmother and Godsister swore by Bio Oil for Son 2’s lip.  We shopped on the way home.  Nappies, Bio Oil and Ibuprofen sachets.  And Son 2’s first pair of shoes.  He loved them.  Stomped around the shop in them squealing and squawking,  Godmother and Godsister had to come round to see Son 1’s Omnitrix.  They were introduced to Heatblast, Wildmutt and Co.  Son 1 helped me cook the Sea Bass for tea.  Son 2 wolfed it. Son 1 finally ate a reasonable amount after exhausting cajoling.  We invented CuddleBlast, a superhero who cuddles the baddies every time she catches them.  Peels of laughter from Son 1.  At bathtime, Son 2 was very chilled when the Bio Oil went on his lip.  They went to bed. I went for a run.  A lot of Good Things.

1.  Sleeping In My Bed

2.  Banana Cake

3.  The Play Den

Midnight.  A stir in the air which means Son 1 aged 4y 4m is heading upstairs.  Son 2 aged 16m started roaring.  I sat up.  Son 1 crawled into bed behind me.  I waited to see if Son 2 would settle, but he wanted someone to come, and he was doing his shouting-so-angrily-you-can-hear-his-throat-strain thing. “Did you wake Son 2 up?” I asked Son 1. “No.” “Did you peek in his room at all?” “I didn’t go in his room.”  Son 2 was using everything he had, heels upwards, in his yelling.  I went downstairs to him.  The quilt of the bed in his room was turned back.  Son 1 had obviously got in the bed, snugged across unsuccessfully looking for a parent, padded away upstairs… and set his brother off.  By 0130 Son 2 was back in a deep sleep.  I plopped him in the cot, and went next door to sleep in Son 1’s bed.  I was freezing and needed an extra blanket.  Ah.  Son 1’s broken nights have coincided with this cold snap.  We are indeed Terrible Parents.

In the morning I told Son 1 that someone had, indeed, been into Son 2’s bedroom in the night and woken him up.  Son 1 laughed.  “It was me.”  Son 2 wanted food.  I took him downstairs while I made drinks and snacks.  He stood on dining chairs propped up by the worktops.  Direct line of sight to  the tub containing banana cake made by Wonder Nanny on Friday.  “Aahhh,” points Son 2.  I don’t think it’s possible to deflect Son 2 from a food mission once he’s got an idea in his head.  He ate two pieces.  And another piece for breakfast.

Son 1 had an invitation to a joint Nursery party at a Tourist Attraction 30 miles away.  The day was planned.  Son 2’s sleep.  Lunch. In the car and off we go.  Son 2, bunged up with banana cake,  wouldn’t eat an atom of lunch.     We walked into the Tourist Attraction. “You know Mummy, this isn’t as bad as I thought it would be,” said Son 1, taking in the slides, the soft play, and the Big Uns’ playstuff.   Half the size of the Bird Park play area, with four times as many children.   He sat on the sides, swinging his legs, and trying to get me to ask his Nursery friends to play with him.   He got there in the end.  Son 2 loved it.  Ball pool, play with the air jets.  Slides.  Climbing over the Big Uns’ playstuff. 90 minutes of heaving Son 2 up and down, round and along… sometimes checking on Son 1, sometimes playing with him, and it was time for Party Tea.  I tried to get Son 2 to eat a ham sandwich.  He settled for a chocolate doughnut.  At last I could go and get a cappacino.  The coffee machine was out of order.  Twenty minutes later, an announcement.  The loos were also out of order.  Tea over, more play, and then we rounded up our balloons and headed home, listening to Peter Pan and (one of us) munching cake and eating lollipops all the way.