1.   Cots

2.   Coughs

3.   Cartoons

Son 1 aged 5y 1m in the Big Bed whispered in the dark:  “Is it time to get up?”  “Dunno.Whatdoestheclocksay?”  ”Six… two…five. No!  Six… five.. five… No! Six… two… five…”  “Well which one is it?”  The child cannot tell the time, and he is still a bit wobbly on his fives and twos. But 0625 is achievable, and five to seven is Armageddon. I’d been awake most of the night and couldn’t get my eyes open. ”Six two five. I think.” It was a Good Thing.  I went to the bathroom to put my contact lenses in, and heard Son 2 aged 2y 1m stir. By the time I got downstairs, Son 1 had turned the light on, climbed in the cot and was lying next to Son 2.  “Look Mummy. I got my Son 1,” he said. Son 1 cuddled him, cute, cute, cute. I leant down towards Son 2. “Shall I get you up?” He looked me in the eye. “Go ‘way Mummy.”  ”Let me take this off then,” I reached for his sleeping bag. ”NO!” he screeched. ”Go ‘way Mummy.”  “What about your nappy?  Have you done a poo?” “I all right.” I went downstairs and put the coffee on.

I’ve finished at The Office now until a week on Friday. This is a Good Thing. I’m so tired my eyes are watering,  I’ve still got a rattling cough and my throat hasn’t been back to normal since I lost my voice.  I haven’t taken more than a week off at once since my maternity leave finished.  http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/03/28/back-to-work/ I really would like a little lie down.

They were excited when I came home, but it was controllable.  They took forever over their jelly, and then span bathtime out.  Son 2 sat happily through five books and then harrassed Son 1 by throwing toys in his bath. Son 1 was in a very complicated narrative game involving Dory, Nemo and  floating sea horses.  I swapped them over - I don’t bath them together because of Son 1’s molluscum - and Son 2 weed in the water with a big smile on his face. And then drank it while I was cleaning Son 2’s teeth.  Not quite as delightful as the moment when, lying on the nappy mat, he stuck his finger up his bum: “I touch my poo” and then stuck it up his nose.  I will see if I can get him to stop doing that before he wants to go out with girls.

1.  Tessellation

2.  Acute Angle

3.  Fearful Symmetry

Son 1 aged 5 came in the Big Bed in the night.  Fast asleep, his little body seeks mine. Arms, legs, hands, touch,  touch, touch, snug,  snug, snug, following me around the bed.  I don’t think there’s a childcare book I haven’t read, so yes, I know I should be giving him the great gift of learning to sleep independently… but surely anyone seeing the unconscious behaviour of a small child in bed would conclude they are biologically programmed to sleep with their parents.   We of course are not biologically programmed to work ourselves into oblivion, which is why it all gets tricky. 

And which is why I get every bug going.  I still can’t speak, so I couldn’t go into The Office.  The weather was heavenly, so I decided to help my recovery by taking Son 2 aged 2y 1m to The Zoo.  He loved it. Monkeys, lemurs, ducks, deers, warthogs… “Next one! Next one!”  Lions, lynx, zebra, penguins, snakes, reptiles, frogs.  He walked and walked.  “I wan’ see lion.  I wan’ see lil farm. I wan’ see clip clop (= horses = zebras.)” After two hours I had to give up and we drove back. Son 2 fell asleep almost instantly.  I thought  a sherbert lemon from a bag my colleagues left would help my throat. The bag and the sweet wrapper crackled. ”I wan’ tweetie!” came a cry from the backseat.  At home I needed a rest. Son 2 wouldn’t lie down with me, so I went into the boys’ room, got into Son 1’s bed, and let Son 2 play with his cot and soft toys on the floor beside me.   I closed my eyes.  Something heavy smashed into my forehead so hard it nearly popped my eyeball out from the inside.  It was the lamp from on top of the headboard. Son 2, playing with the on/off switch, had pulled the flex and brought the heavy metal base down on my temple from two foot up.  The imprint is a trench in the bruise on my forehead. Being positive, at least we now know it’s dangerous. It would have cracked a little boy skull like an eggshell. “Mummy. Bump. Light. Head. Ouch.” said Son 2.

The Man collected Son 1 from School and the boys had the Sunday roast leftovers for tea. Just when I thought they’d finished and could be shooed up to bed, Son 1 reminded me that I’d said they could have jelly tot lollies for pudding. ”Ok, you can eat them outside as a special treat and we’ll read some books while we’re out there.” The evening was glorious. We sat beneath the fading sunflowers, and read Son 1’s school book. The boys gobbled the last pea pods off the plants we’d grown.  Son 1 was happy to have his bath and go to bed with Son 2. He dashed upstairs, sprinted into the bedroom and caught the side of his head full pelt against the doorpost, so fast and so hard he ricocheted off like a billiard ball.  He screamed, and cried loudly and horribly. I scooped him up, gave him a large slug of ibuprofen and made him an ice compress in a tea towel.  His left temple is grazed and bruised.  My right temple is dented and bruised.  On the same day, within three hours of each other, absolutely unrelated accidents.  How does that happen?

1.  Mr Bump

2.  Mr Clever

3.  Bash A Fish

The Man took Son 1 aged 5 to school, so Son 2 aged 2 and I could bond at home.  He chose the activity. Sitting on my knee while he watched The Wiggles.  At the party, a Mum-Of-Three kindly donated 3 Wiggles DVDs which hers have outgrown.  Another friend gave him a “Mister Bump” sweatshirt, which I put him in today, thinking it was hilarious.   I went upstairs to do my hair and make up. I went downstairs to put on washing, clean up and get our packed lunch ready. ”Mummeee!  It’s Bished (Finished)!” called Son 2’s distant voice. “Ok!” I called back. Bump-Thump-Crash-Waaaaaaah.  Down the stairs again.  I couldn’t see him, but I know what happened. He thought I was upstairs and was heading on up… he heard my voice from downstairs… swung round and splat.  Never happens with Wonder Nanny. Always happens with me.

I pushed him over to the Rockpool Beach to see the Wednesday Friends. Another Mum from breastfeeding group five years ago was also there.  Two little Wednesday brothers, who’d both been at the Birthday Tea yesterday, were knackered. One cuddled his Mum and slept… the other played and sat.  They were in rainsuits and fleeces.  Son 2, within seconds of arriving, demanded to play in the water. I put him in his neoprene swimsuit, with his sunsuit over the top. He’ll freeze soon, I thought, and then he’ll sit with everyone, so I’ll play with him for a bit first.  Clutching the fishing net I’d transported upright on the Big Pram, he led me to the rockpools.  They were all full of shrimps.  Poor old Son 1 and I have been to that beach time after time. He loves catching shrimp. And we really had very little luck.  It’s one of the reasons we moved onto crabbing. And yet, just after high tide, there they all were, darting around in every one.  It was great. It probably means another polar bear somewhere with no ice cap to live on, but it was great. We caught three before Son 2 demanded we look for crabs. Which we couldn’t find.  He didn’t get cold. He didn’t sleep.  

We walked back via The Square. I had a coffee and got Son 2 a hot chocolate.  He fell over on the concrete - this is where he fell and ended up in casualty - and blacked his cheek. He pointed at something. “Big SeeSaw,” he said.  I kept trying but didn’t get it.  “Seahorse?”  “No.  ‘Mine. Mine. Mine.’ Like Nemo.”  “Oh, seagull!” “Es.”  We rounded up The Man and went to collect Son 1.  “You can bring siblings in for the school photos tomorrow,” said Smiley Teacher. Of course we can. Because Son 2 has a great swollen red mark on his cheek. On the way back we stopped in at The Fish Shop with a sample of water from our tank. Hooray. We can buy two fish.  Son 1 picked some little sparkly silver ones.  Back home, they watched his new Kung Fu Panda DVD, while The Man and I tried to sort the tank. When he set it up, he left the plants in baskets. And they have to be planted. So I stuck two in the gravel and tied one to the bogwood. Then we couldn’t get the airpipes into the skull and the treasure chest properly.  And the tank looked all stirred up and murky. So we put the fish bag in it. The boys ate tea, and then, at last, we released Flossy and Coupon into the water. They seemed to like it.  Then, upstairs, while I was putting Son 2 to bed, Son 1 asked if he could go down and have another look at the fish.  When I’d finally got them both to sleep, I went downstairs and there was only one. “I think we’ve killed the other one already,” said The Man. “Son 1 frightened it, it swam behind the bogwood and that’s it. That was an hour ago. ”  Bugger, I thought. I’d liked those fish.  I went downstairs for the paper while we were eating our meal. Two fish. It vanished again while we were washing up, and then came out when we switched the light off.  I do hope they live. We can have some more at the weekend, according to the woman in the shop. I am having one. When the boys have chosen theirs, and when they are settled, I am going to get one more.  i will put it into the gang and see how long it takes for them to notice. But it will always be Mine.

1.  Ravening Beasts

2.  Dolphins

3.  Little Cherub

A grindingly long day on the Trade Stand.  At a coastal Trade Show, so The Man decided to take Son 1 aged 4y 11m and Son 2 aged 23m.  He’d arranged to see another family there so he’d still have someone to look after him.  But it meant getting up and out Early.  After a long summer of boys in pyjamas in front of the telly, snacking on tubs, having breakfast when they liked, it came as a shock.  But we made it out, on time, using it as a dry run for Thursday, when we’ll have to do it all again for School.  Son 2 passed out in the car almost straight away, Son 1 hung on until we were nearly there. I was then glued to the Stand, the family went wandering. Son 2 was tricky to start off with because he didn’t want to leave me. But they apparently had a blast. A fire engine, a pirate stall, food stalls, marine stalls, musicians, singers and all kinds of boating displays in the adjacent harbour. It heaved with people. The Other Family arrived, and we sent them off in search of The Man and the boys.  An Organiser came up to check everything was ok with us. “Fine,” I said. “How about you? Are you pleased?”  “Oh yes. Apart from having to get Security down to a fight between the Toffee Apple seller and Olde Sweetes next door.”

Late Afternoon and The Man, Son 1 and Son 2 were kicking their heels nearby. A colleague rang from the harbourside. “There’s a pod of dolphins playing with the lifeboats!”   An offshore lifeboat and an inshore RIB were supposed to be doing a display with a Navy helicopter in the sea outside the harbour wall.  The helicopter hadn’t turned up - too misty or busy elsewhere.   But who cares… we got to hang over the wall and watch five or six dolphins within 50 feet, surfacing, jumping, surfing.  Both lifeboats manoeuvred slowly back and forth. the dolphins jumping ahead of their bows and across their wakes.  Jet skiers who had been zooming up and down the inner harbour arrived and started playing with them.   We left before the dolphins. The Man had put Son 1’s milkshake in the pocket of his shorts. Then Son 2 had taken a dive… the milkshake erupted, and The Man had to remove marshmallow, milk and ice cream mix from his phone. 

At bathtime, Son 2 just wanted to “Tork.”  “Lifeboat. Monkey. Waved.”  “Yes. You saw a lifeboat with a man on it wearing a giant lifeboatman head and it looked just like a monkey. And he waved, didn’t he?”  “Dol dols. Lifeboat. Bikes. On Sea. On Wah wah.” “Yes, you saw the lifeboats and the dolphins and the jet skis that looked just like motorbikes.  Did you like the dolphins?” “Yes.  Lifeboat. Monkey. Waved. Me.”  He waved his hand.  “Dol Dol. Bikes.” He zoomed his hand in and out of the bubbles in his bath. ”Would you like to stand up please, like a good boy so I can wash your bottom?” “No. Tork.  Lifeboat. Monkey. Waved.” He was still trying to discuss the dol dols as I lay him down in his cot.

1. In Reality

2.  A Nightmare

3.  Dream Finish

Son 2 aged 23m is speaking in whole sentences, and I haven’t noticed.  “Great receptive language,” I had expertly told myself, “expressive a bit behind Son 1 now aged 4y 11m at his age.” This morning. “Ah Wah Wotsh Madda Da Da.”  I Want To Watch Madagascar.  “Ah Wah Pess Buh Buh.” While I was on my laptop. I Want To Press The Buttons.   Hey ho. There was me thinking, when I get a minute, when I remember, I’ll put all the single words he can do on my blog so I’ll have a record… including all those exciting two-word sentences like “Mummy car,” and “Me Do” (See Yesterday.)  And all the time he’s near enough on “You Must Never Go Down To The End Of THe Town Unless You Go Down With Me.”

I had another one of my anxiety dreams.  I was in the kitchen, making Jamie Oliver fish pie for tea. Son 2 wanted to stand on a chair and wash the potatoes. Son 1 insisted on doing it too. Son 1 wanted to peel the carrots, so I let him “Look! Look! My first carrot! It’s not bad, is it?”  Son 2 wanted to as well, so we had to see if he could do it. “Don’t touch the blade. Sharp. Dangerous.”  The Man said the sauce was too rich last time, so I used full cream milk, and it curdled when I added lemon juice. No matter what I did, the finished meal didn’t get any nearer the oven. Both boys were going nuts with hunger.  Son 1 was supposed to grate a big slab of cheese for my rescue sauce. He ate the lot. The boys were stroppy, The Man was stroppy, the pie still wasn’t in the oven. It was 1720 and it wasn’t a dream. ”I’ll just be five minutes and then I can get it in to cook!” I wailed. 

“I’ll take them for a walk,” said The Man.  “See if the Yacht Club’s open!” I called. “Then I can come back here and switch it off after half an hour.”  Son 2 ran for the door. “And me!”  The bar was open. The boys played with their toy golf set on the lawn. The Man had a couple of pints, I had a couple of glasses of wine. Dark grey, low clouds flew by above the river in front of us… we had a light blue patch high overhead. It was great.  A snatched al fresco playhour. We came back. The pie looked good.  The boys were too tired and wired to eat it.

1.  Punch

2.  Pizzazz

3.  Yahoo

Boy oh boy.  I am still struggling to get up each morning.  When I get the boys up there is fruit for pre-breakfast snacks, to get started on their five-a-day while they’re still hungry.  I dress them.  And I sit with Son 2 aged 22m to read five books - chosen by him, of course. We are very Child Led in our house.  This will Develop His Understanding And Vocabulary. It must take place with no distractions or diversions (ie Son 1 aged 4y 10m) so Son 2 is Focused.  Sticker Books are only allowed in the morning. as they are too exciting before bed.  Trips to the window seat to watch the bin men or recycling lorry are allowed, but only if he comes straight back after.   If I stay in bed, all three of them sit in the lounge in their pyjamas and watch telly till I get up.  This morning I managed to heave myself up and Son 2 and I did our books. Then we went upstairs where Son 1 was watching Aladdin.  I was in a mad rush, but the Genie had just been let out of the lamp and I cannot resist him. We all danced.   I’m In The Mood To Help You Dude. 

I ticked off some things from the To Do list.  Booked hall for Son 1 and Son 2’s joint birthday party.  That’s a Load Off.   Mmm. That may have been Jack Nicholson, not Robin Williams.    So I now have a hall and a Party Leader.   All I need now is a bouncy castle and we’re rocking.  I flew around The Town and got presents and cards for The Man’s birthday.  And a couple of cheap DVDs from HMV for me.     I bought a birthday card for Wonder Nanny’s Other Family’s Mother, who’s having a party tomorrow that we can’t get to  because we were already booked.  I sent an email back to The Boy Who Broke My Heart, who sent me one yesterday.  Regular readers will know he had to phone me, http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/07/19/visitors/ in a very strange collision of our separate, parallel worlds.  We are going to have coffee next time I am in the Teeming Metropolis.  Not.  At least not until I’m the size 12 I was in 1983. 

And I got out for a run.  Unrelated to the last line of 2.  It was, AT LAST, a lovely evening. The Man had planned drinks with a work colleague, so I went out for a quick jog after the boys went to sleep. I ran through The Town, past the Different Coloured Houses Sitting By The Sea,  to Rockpool Beach.  Really lovely.  Very warm, and the tide was in, so I ran along the lower sea wall as the tips of the waves touched it.  The horizon was miles and miles away, the sea was blue and flat, the air felt crisp and clear.  Coming back I heard a cry of “Serenedays!” It was a very young colleague from The Office, freshly shaved, in a very clean, pressed shirt, on his way out to celebrate a friend’s birthday.  He thought they would all end up in the Town’s Dodgy Nightclub.  I liked The Town’s early evening atmosphere. Families out… father and sons, matching builds and faces, walking shoulder to shoulder, eating chips from paper… big dock visitors in large, overwashed black tee shirts and thick jeans, smart ladies of a certain age escorted by husbands in chinos and pastel polo shirts… lippy teenagers “Keep running!” and girls in clothes I couldn’t dream of wearing…  I’m very glad I went out.

1.  Waking Up

2.  Speaking Volumes

3.  Tucking In Tails

Teenaged-style lie-ins this morning, from three out of four of us.  Guess which one was up at 6am defrosting rolls for lunches?  Son 2 aged 20m woke at 0730 during my shower.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m, trespassing in The Big Bed, was motionless throughout. He came round when The Man put the telly on… and got him into his Nursery uniform. Son 2 was lovely during his books.  Staring at the pile, choosing which one he wanted.  Usborne Animal Hide And Seek. Twice. Then Diggers.  He had strawberries and apple rice cakes in his tub. “More,” he demanded when he’d finished his strawberries. I didn’t get up, and he ate the rest of his rice cakes instead.

And me. Boat, bed, bus, bread, bath, book, ball, bounce, banana, blueberry, bye bye, baby. Car, cot, cat, chips, crisps, chocolate. Down, down there, dada, door.  Go, grape, hello. ice cream, ice. juice, Mummy. No, nose. oh-oh, peas, please, phone, roller, roll, round, raisin,  rain, ray, shoe,  shark, Son 1, stick, stuck, sweet, toe, tractor, up,  van, water,yes  Moo, baa, woof, snap snap, quack, hoo hoo, sssss, squawk, oink, clip clop, cluck cluck.  The ones I can remember.  He really is a clever little sausage.

I bought The Man a bag from TK MAx for his Business Trip, but it fell apart, so today I had to take it back. While I waited in the queue I spotted a pack of two How Does A Dinosaur books for £4.  Got to really.  For their birthdays, of course.  In September. After The Office, I had another dash across The Big Town to get to Nursery before it closed.  Son 1 seemed very happy and said he’d had a good day.  He fell asleep in the car on the way back.  Son 2 was on fine form, chortling away when I arrived and refusing to head for his bath.  I read the new books to them.  Son 1 was the only one who noticed it was a bit different to the one we usually do, How Does A Dinosaur Say Good night.  We now have How Does a Dinosaur Tidy His Room, and How Does a Dinosaur Play With His Friends.   I am keeping my eyes peeled for How Does  A Dinosaur Earn Enough Money So He Can Buy His Mummy A House And She Doesn’t Have To Work Again.

1.  Junior Showtime

2.  Long-Standing

3.  Learning To Talk

Days 1 and 2 of The Trade Show.  Son 1 aged 4y 8m and Son 2 aged 20m went with Wonder Nanny yesterday.  They apparently walked round, went on rides, looked at animals (pig and mooing noises from Son 2,) collected stickers, pencils and assorted oddments from stands, had lunch and then went in the Play Tent till I collected them.  Son 2 appeared to have also found a shirt-painting stand.  He was in white linen. I told Wonder Nanny not to worry about the shirt as You Can Get Anything Out Of Linen.  Son 2 was cheerfully testing the theory, with strips and splodges of paint, ice cream and pen all over him.  The children painting in the Play Tent were using washing up bowls to clean their paintbrushes, so there were large bowls of shallow, deeply coloured water perched on kiddies’ chairs.  Son 2 had borrowed a tea cup from a toy box and was using it to scoop out blue water and tip it on the floor in front of him.  Nice.

Son 2 was having a day with Wonder Nanny, and Son 1 was at Nursery today. We got him there on time, which was a Good Thing, and he plopped down, cross-legged, with the other children with nary a glance up at me.  I took a colleague into The Trade Show, and we had a Good Day.  Very busy, great people, saw loads of contacts, walked miles, worked hard, left late. As I was leaving I rang home to tell The Man to start putting the boys to bed without me.  Wonder Nanny answered.  Past her leaving time. ”Isn’t The Man back yet?” “No… I  know he was picking up Son 1, but we’ve not seen them here.”  I rang The Man.  Doing a Big Shop with Son 1. Hadn’t worried about Wonder Nanny and Son 2  because he’d assumed I’d be home.  Oh Dear. 

 Back home, Son 2 hung round my neck, Son 1 screamed and squealed.  “Do you want to go to the Trade Show again tomorrow?” I asked Son 2.  He nodded, made his pig noise, and moo-ed.  He really does understand everything.  His speech bounds onwards: “Up Up Up,” is a new favourite, said mostly with two arms wound round my leg as I try to shake him off so I can get things out the oven. He has recognisable words for bread, toast, butter, cheese, milk, juice, tea, shoes, chair, bath, bubble, bus, book, bear, boat, cat, dog, stop, spot, please, peas, ice cream, chocolate, toes… I must do a proper list one evening. His most used sentence is “And me!”  Which he uses indiscriminately every time I ask Son 1 if he wants something.

1.  I Told You I Was Trouble

2.  Trying To Fix You

3.  Sunshine On A Rainy Day

Son 2 aged 19m’s skin is awful.  The blisters are angry, red and wet.  Except the big ones behind his ear and on his willy, which are red round the bottom with a huge, wet, white blob on the top.  There are so many red blotchy ones in his nappy creases that they all run together in an inflamed red line.  They’re all over his head and today, they’ve just started popping out on his face.  Serve me right for being so precious about the scar on his lip.  Now he’s got a boil on his eyebrow and a crop of them on his cheek.  His nappy area is so bad that this morning I let him roam nappy free. He was in the kitchen playing with some toys, I was upstairs with the ironing. ”Wee wee!” I heard him call.  I went down.  He had pooed and weed in the big plastic toybox, smeared poo all over the sides, trod wee all around the kitchen and had brown smudges of poo on his legs.  Half an hour later he did another one, and this time smeared my posh pyjamas. I gave up and put us both in the shower. After I’d finished, he sat there with the shower trained on the spots on his back, staring ahead vacantly. 

I took him down to the Lounge to calamine him up.  He batted my hands away. Son 1 aged 4y 7m was interested in the cotton wool balls.  “You could paint Son 2’s spots if we found you a brush,” I said absently.  He vanished. Wonder Nanny and I continued with the task in hand.  Really hard.  Son 2 does not like being calamined. He is a fast, sure, controlled mover and we are no match for him.  Son 1 returned with a paintbrush.  I felt the bristles. “No you can’t use that on his spots. It’s too rough. I’ll go and find you a make up brush.” ” I like this one,” said Son 1. “It’s blue. “ When I came back down, Son 2 was standing naked in the sunshine on the windowseat, dabbing his own spots with a great wadge of cotton wool, while Wonder Nanny and Son 1 coloured in the rest of him.

I had booked leave today, and Son 1 wanted to go to the Aquarium. We arrived and had lunch. Son 2 was grouchy, whining and clingy. He’s eating very little at the moment, but grabbing sweet things whenever he can. There may be trouble ahead.  We went round, Son 1 chirping excitedly, Son 2 pointing and demanding to be lifted up. ”Dzar!” he can say, in a clear word meant to be Shark.  And, the triumph: “Ray!”  “Ray!” at the big rays. Clear, correct, and repeated at the top of his little boy voice, often.  Inspired, when I got home I wrote out all the words he can say.  He’s got a vocabulary of about 50 words, which I just didn’t realise.  All this time I’ve been Not Worrying Because Second Children Talk Later… when in fact he’s been building up his speech quite nicely.

1.   Baby School

2.   Last Day Of The Holidays

3.   Two Households

I’m doing longer books with Son 2 aged 19m.  Happy I’m a Hippo has been a big hit, although he has a “sod the story, let’s see that crocodile page again” grabby approach which is not quite sitting sedately, listening to the Voice He Loves Most.   The Snail and the Whale has also been tolerated, his short-attention span countered by the staged arrival of the speed boats and fire engine.  Plenty of potential there for parrot squawks, his latest animal sound.  And open-mouthing for fish. He has a pretty good “updair” for upstairs though, and he also has a clear, but corrupted version of “shark.”  Digger, Dump, roll-roll, dar (for car) and dan (for van.)  Crocodile is still Nap Nap, but, just today “Dile.”  He’s definitely trying. This morning we did Itsy Bitsy House which he loved.  Twice. And again this evening.

I am back at The Office and Son 1 aged 4y 6m and Son 2 are Not Happy.  Wonder Nanny being the celestial creature that she is, arranged two mega-activity days for them.  Yesterday they went to a Big Attraction. When Wonder Nanny announced it, Son 1 whooped and gurgled with Clanger-like joy.  Today they went to a garden and met up with some friends. Gals, as Son 1 calls them.  Still not his favourite things, but it sounds like they all had a great time.  I have a glass with a windfall camellia flower,  two brown leaves and a bit of grass in it.  “I brought you some flowers, Mummy.”

I came home to two lively, happy, healthy, gorgeous children.  Son 2 burst into tears and ran away… Son 1 slalomed past me and dived into a carrier containing a toy I’d bought him in TK Maxx.  Son 2 has taken to cuddlng me as part of his bedtime routine.  At a particular place in his ritual, he stops, put his arms round my neck and snugs into me.  They are glorious, joyful, characters who bubble with life, love and laughter.  Everything about them this evening seemed fast and vivid.  Late this afternoon I saw a mother who’s just had devastating news about her beautiful two-year-old’s health.  Unthinkable, unbelievable, unimaginable news.  Someone please tell me how I can help them.  It’s now 11pm, and Son 1 has just woken up, sitting watching me from the darkness at the top of the stairs.  I waved.  “Cuddle,” he said.  I took him up on the offer.