1.  Like A Duck To Water

2.  Proud As A Peacock

3.  Eggs

4am. Son 2 aged 19m woke screaming.  I went down and got him back to sleep in the double bed. And went back upstairs to read Two Lives.  He woke again. I went down again. It’s His Teeth.  Fast Forward. The Hotel Pool.  Son 1 aged 4y 6m wanted to go the Hotel Pool because he wants to go swimming with Son 2.  The Man won’t go with us, and you need two adults for two children at the Town Pool.  Not at the Hotel.  Son 1 had the noodle, Son 2 was in foam armbands and a swimming costume wetsuit.  We played in the baby pool, we splashed in the fountains. We played Humpty Dumpty.  Son 2: (pointing) Dump! Dump!” We swam. Son 2 can float a bit.  Son 1can push and glide, do dolphin dives and do star, pencil and frog floats.   Only not in the Hotel Pool, which is four foot deep all the way through.  They both worked incredibly hard.

After, we drove over to the Farm Butcher to get a joint for tomorrow’s lunch. Son 2 passed out in the Hotel car park.    He woke up when we stopped the car at the Farm Butcher.   Peacocks wandered around the car park.  As we all watched, a male spread its tail, shaking and shimmering at an unconcerned female idly pecking by.  It was fantastic.  Amazing moving colours, brilliant blues and emerald and lime greens.  In the shop, at the back, there were scores of peacock feathers sticking out of a row of about 10 vases.  “Let’s buy one,” said Son 1. “I don’t think they’re for sale,” I said.  “Ask the gent,” he said.  I did.  It is apparently bad luck to take a peacock tail feather outside.  You can take them in to a building, but not outside again.   Many people have asked for a peacock feather, but the Butcher is superstitious.  The Butcher himself went out to look for new one.  It was left outside by the door for Son 1, who was truly delighted with it.  Back home, the feather has not come into the house. 

We went to Nanna’s for tea.  Nanna always comes to us.  It was easier. But after a particularly difficult teatime, we decided to try every other Saturday at her house.  I dropped off Lightning McQueen buckets for her to use in an egg hunt.  We arrived. The boys took their buckets and went into the garden.  Son 1 found one egg and started eating. Son 2 found one, I peeled it halfway and he started eating.  Son 1, squealing, found marshmallows and more chocolate.  Son 2 found a Creme Egg.  “Ur Ur,” he said, having bitten through the foil to eat it, the other egg still in a hand.  I removed the foil from his mouth.  Nanna has a tiny ancient bird pond full of dark green water.  Son 2 went for it.  So did Son 1.  Nanna gave them tubs.  They scooped and poured.  Within 10  minutes Son 1 had soaked his clothes and was stripped naked. Son 2 was down to his vest. It was freezing, the skies charcoal. Upstairs was a vintage tin bath which Nanna used to bathe us in, 40 years ago.  I put a kettle of boiling water in it, added cold, and put it in the garden.  The boys both went for it, and, spotting it as the only available outside warmth, wouldn’t come out. The Man brought out new clothes, and we had tea.  Nanna had bought oven chips. “They’re not as nice as I thought they would be,” said Son 1 casually.   Our chips start life as potatoes, cut into chips, blasted  in the microwave for five minutes, dried and then roasted off for 20 minutes in olive oil in the oven.   ”Delicious, yum, yum,” says Son 1. Now all we need to do is get his manners as refined as his palate.

1.  Ding Dong Bell

2.  Humpty Dumpty

3.  And Jill Came Tumbling After

We went out to a Fondue Dinner last night.  Friends, and Friends of Friends.  A very nice time.  Too much wine.  Back at 0130.  Son 2 aged 16m woke us up at 6am with his skull-splitting, ear-piercing, only-mummy-will-do shrieking.    It was Very Hard.  I took both boys downstairs and got drinks and snack tubs, got everything back upstairs again, and told The Man that as he’d just had 25 minutes’ lying in, I was going back to bed.  I got in Son 1 aged 4y 3m’s bed, and just drowsed.  The Man brought Son 2 down to me at about twenty to nine.  That hour and a quarter extra in bed was A Very Good Thing Indeed.

i took Son 2 to Baby and Toddler swimming, and he loved it.  We bounced, we played Humpty Dumpty, he walked in the pool a bit, he wore his armbands, he swam with me a bit, he floated on his own for a few seconds.  He looked and looked at the other children, lifeguards, safety equipment, marks on the wall - there was nothing he didn’t stare at.  He fell asleep in the car and then slept in his cot for two hours.  He had a great time, but I don’t know that I’ve done him any good.  He had a cold, and he’s really not very well at all tonight.  I took him because I knew it would give him a deep sleep afterwards, I knew he was already tired and I don’t know how else to get him to wind down.  He does have long sleeps with Wonder Nanny, but it’s as if when we’re around it’s just “Mummy and Daddy are here so I’ll stay up, thanks.”

I took Son 1 up to the pool while Son 2 was sleeping. His Wednesday Friend was there, so he was happy.  He wanted to play a game I need goggles for, so I went to the locker and took them out of the bag.  When I got back he was being swept round the pool on his surfboard by the River Run.  I went round with him and he pushed me away “I’m doing it on my OWN.”  After our friends left, we went on the Flume.  Together about 5 times, and then, without warning, instead of waiting for me to sit down and then climbing into my lap, he sat on the hotseat himself and looked up expectantly at the Lifeguard.  A nod, he pushed himself off, and That Was It.  Son 1 goes down the Flume on his own.  7 times or more.  I slid down alone after him.   Pang.

1.  Humpty Dumpty

2.  Kevin

3.  Can’t Catch Me 

Son 1 aged 4 was the one who had an awful night this time.  Feverish. Crying. Sore throat.  In with me.  On the bright side… Son 1 didn’t have a problem with my going taking Son 2 aged 13m swimming without him, especially as I said yes, he could stay in bed and watch telly.  Swimming was lovely.  Son 2 played Humpty Dumpty… half-jumping in himself. Then he wanted to stand up and fall in.  He spent a lot of time trying to work out how to climb in and out of the pool.  The frog armbands were on, off, on, off, on. Depending on whether whichever child Son 2 was watching was wearing them.  He splashed.  He watched everybody.  He got tired and just snugged into me while he looked and looked.  When I got him home he was asleep in his car seat. We got his shoes and coat off, got him in his sleeping bag, got  him in his cot and got the side of the cot up without waking him.  And then, when I had a panic about whether he’d fallen asleep with sandwich in his mouth, I stuck my finger in each side of his mouth to check. And still, the lightest sleeper on the planet didn’t wake up.  Poor lamb.  Talk about a sign of stress.  Physical exhaustion can wipe him out, but he’s got so much crowding his head that it’s just not happening otherwise at the moment.  

The Man cooked Sunday lunch while we were out. Son 1 had fallen asleep on a makeshift bed in front of the lounge telly.  Nanna came round. We decided we’d all eat if the children didn’t wake up, but Son 2 of course joined us.  Son 1 woke, wouldn’t have any lunch, wouldn’t see Nanna and went back upstairs to watch telly.  He’s so advanced.  I’m sure I didn’t do that to any of my relatives till I was 12 or 13.  Without Son 1, we had a relatively straightforward, enjoyable lunch.

Son 1 had skipped lunch, breakfast, tea last night, had a sweet potato yesterday lunchtime, and skipped breakfast and tea on Friday night.  He is gulping when he swallows, and he’s very hot, so we know he feels awful.  Nanna, Son 2 and I went out after lunch in search of cartoon pasta, jelly, and anything that a sick four year old might eat.    Our haul was one half can of fishy pasta shapes and some spaghetti hoops.  We stopped off for a Costa coffee and then came back.  Son 1 was interested in the Scooby Doo Ice Pops, and ate the can of fish-shaped pasta.  Son 2 ate and ate and ate.  And was then  chased upstairs by me doing “Coming to get you and when I do… I am going to TICKLE YOU” with him in peels of giggles. Tickling a child with Son 2’s capacity to throw up is always risky… but on a very very full stomach… I was careful.