1.   Noise

2.   Toys

3.   Boys

A quiet night from Son 2 aged 14m.  Fireworks this morning though.  The Man brought the boys up their snack - banana and apple pieces.  “I want grapes,” said Son 1 aged 4y 2m. “We haven’t got any grapes,” I said.  Son 1 grizzled a bit.  Son 2 grabbed his tub, peered in, tried throwing it on the floor… grabbed Son 1’s tub, flung the banana and apple on the floor, snatched his own again and succeeded in throwing the contents out… and then hurled his Doidy cup of milk across the chair and mirror.  It was a spectacular piece of tantruming, just because he didn’t have grapes in his tub.  He was dumped back in his cot and left to stew.  Well, boil would be a more accurate description.  Jaysus if he’s like this now what happens when he’s had time to practise?

Getting Son 1 to Nursery on time was a Good Thing.  We left late, the roads were awful, and I decided to try another route which was ok until we ended up in a long stationary queue.  I’m usually pretty patient in traffic, but we’d already been late twice and I really felt like Flinging My Tub. We got there on time though, and I even saw the teacher for the first time in a week.  I like the way Son 1 goes into Nursery now.  Eyes darting around to see what the others are doing, checking out all the different toys out in all the different places… his brain really switches instantly to What-Am-I-Playing-With, rather than I-Want-My-Mum.

Back home after The Office Son 2 reached and shrieked for me as soon as I walked in, and then, once he’d clamped himself to my shoulder started looking round for the next bit of action.  I did some books with him and got him in his bath.  Son 1 went in the shower, Son 2 sat at the plug end playing with the bubbles, the Winnie The Pooh squirters and some plastic jugs.  Son 1 was cleaning toys and polishing the shower screen.  They were both enchantingly engrossed in their own games.  For two minutes, till Son 1 “accidentally” poured soapy water in Son 2’s eyes.  Waaaaaaaaaaahhhhh.  It was hard settling him again, but we made it.  Six weeks since I stopped feeding him, and I think he’s now happy with milk from a cup and water from a glass.

1.  A nice cup of tea  

2. A nice cup of coffee

3. Eating dinner nicely

Round to our Wednesday friend’s house.  Son 2 aged 10m in transports because there is one of those toy electro drumkits.  I held him, he played with both sticks.  Eyes shining, smile as big as a grapefruit, drool dripping in one long  length from his chin.  Just like the real thing.   The poor friend is having building work done, so their double  mattress is on the floor in the lounge in front of the telly.  It became a pirate ship.  Son 1 aged 3y 10m and his friend did circuits round the sofa, with me saying “Mind the wires.  Mind my cup of tea,” every time they passed.  They thought it was hilarious. Then the nearly two year old did it and tripped on the wires, knocking over the cup of tea.  Onto the wires. 

 Son 1 was exhausted, Son 2 was dropping by the time we left.  So I stopped off at the house, collected the pram and rang The Man who’d said earlier that he’d take us for coffee.  Got to the car park, and both children were asleep.  There should be a drive-through coffee shop for parents whose children have fallen asleep in the car.   They both woke up and we went into the Museum cafe.  It was heeeaving.   Holiday towns in the rain.  Steamed up windows, packed cafes, kagoules,  gridlocked traffic, stressed mothers and hundreds and hundreds of children.  Son 1 and Son 2 were great, and I got my coffee.  Son 2 has started on grapes.  Which I am peeling with my teeth, biting in half and feeding to him.  I got my coffee, but I did a heck of a lot of grapes.

Mother was sitting on the windowsill in the rain when we got back.  She played with Son 2 while I made tea and Son 1 looked at the Lady and the Tramp book she’d bought him.  Pasta and 6-veg sauce.  Something everyone can eat, hooray.  Son 1 used to pack tons of it away every Wednesday, serving himself and every one else from the two bowls with a look of grown-up importance on his face.  Having his own little dish of grated cheese to put on it because he Doesn’t Share Food.  Now we are in the “sauce mustn’t touch the pasta, it’s yucky, I only want the cheese and the pasta” stage.  So I was encouraged when the cheese went on the sauce, not the pasta.  And after a lot of pain, he ate it.  Son 2 just gobbled all of his sauce up.  I gave him some pasta pieces, and some strands of grated cheese.  He ate a bit and then idly flicked everything, one bit at a time,  off the high chair table, leaning well over to watch where it landed.