1.  Outbreak

2.  Outside

3.  Outcast

Son 2 aged 19m has had a pimple on his chest for the last four days.  A red, acne-style beacon, sitting there, shining, glowing. “If there were any more of those, I’d think he had chickenpox” I’d vaguely thought.  Son 2 has had odd spots before, none of which have turned out to be anything other than odd spots.  Yesterday, Son 2 was scratching behind his ear like a flea-bitten dog.  This morning, Son 2 had: spots behind his ears, spots in his ears, spots on his chest, spots on his head, spots on his back, spots on his upper arms, spots on his baby thighs and a big, horrid one right on his willy.    I texted Wonder Nanny, to tell her that the person with the NNEB training was in charge of putting calamine lotion on the wrigglest child in the world.  She rang back. On Friday, with still, just that lone blister, she’d stripped him naked and checked him all over, so sure was she then that he had chickenpox.

Son 2 slept.  We got the paddling pool out.   Son 1 aged 4yr 7m checked with Next Door to see if they’d managed to borrow a pump. Nope. But Next Door did know how to get into a coconut, so Son 1 scampered round, and sat out in the yard with Next Door Neighbour and a hammer.  They smashed it.  He brought it round our side, testing it. “I don’t like it. It’s like the milk.”  He went inside, I stayed outside to try to blow the pool up.  I managed, but it’s already got a hole in it.  From where i folded it.  After 15 minutes I went back into the house.  It was strangely quiet.  “Son 1!”  No answer.  “Son 1! Where are you?”  “Mummy I’m here,” came a strange, faraway voice.  Upstairs?  I went to the bottom of the first floor stairs. “Mummy!  Mummy!”  He sounded scared, which made me scared. “Where are you!”  “Out here!”  I peered downstairs.  A littleface peered in at the front door.  He’d gone out the front door and shut it. ”How long have you been out there?”  “Fifty years.”  Stuck.  Which, coincidentally, is a word Son 2 has started using only today.   Falling between the legs of the upturned toddler chair.  “Stug!  Stug!” 

After lunch, we went down to the Discount Store in search of a puncture repair kit. Stopping off for Nappies.  The Discount Store had sold out.  We headed back, past The Church, where it was Family Tea Time service day.  ”We can’t go,” I told Son 1. “Son 2 will give the other children chickenpox.” “I want to go,” said Son 1.  He scampered up the steps while I battled with the shopping and The Big Pram.  The Vicar and His Wife came out. “It’s good to see you. We don’t know how many others there’ll be.” Code for: No-one Else Is Here. As we went in, a few more families headed in through each door.  Enough for it not to be embarrassing.  The theme was Fish.  Right up Son 2’s alley.  Son 1 fished for magnetic fish in a (puncture free) paddling pool.  Son 2 made Hand Fish.  I drew round his hand, cut it out and then he earnestly squidged gold glitter paint on it.  Then we did Casting Your Net Over The Other Side.  And then tea. Fish Fingers.   Son 2 tipped a beaker of squash down his front, soaking his jumper and vest.  ”Oh dear,” said the Vicar’s Wife.  “Have you got any other clothes with you?”  “Just his coat,” I said. “I’ll change him when I do his nappy.”  “Oh you can change him here, no one will mind,” she said.  They will if they see The Plague Of The Boils, I thought, and retreated to the privacy of the tiny loo.

1.  Pool

2   Party 

3.  Playtime

Bloody paddling pool. When I got to bed, well after 12 last night, I thought “At least we can have a lie in tomorrow.”  0615.  Son 2 aged 19m wailing.  I ignored him.  He quietened.  A face appeared in mine. “Son 2’s awake.” “No-he-isn’t.-He-went-backtosleep.” Brightly: “Can we get up so I can look at that paddling pool?”  Son 1 aged 4y 7m and Son 2 pulled it out.  The box is size of a chessboard.  The deflated, folded-up pool is size of a parachute.    The Baby Was Born and could not be shoved back in.  One glance told me I couldn’t blow it up on my own. ”I think we’ll need a pump.  Next Door might have one. We’ll ask when they’re up.”  Son 1, still in his pyjamas, put his shoes on. ”I’ll go and see Next Door.” It wasn’t yet 7am. I blew a couple of inflatable toys up and they played with them.  “When can we put water in it?” “At Nanna’s.  Although you might not be able to go outside when we get there.   The forecast is for very heavy rain.”  “I don’t mind the rain,” said Son 1.

We went to a Nursery Fancy Dress party.  I had a good time and I think the children enjoyed themselves.  Son 1, who’s serene and unselfconscious about fancy dress and wanders round in pirate or Power Ranger gear when there is no occasion at all, refused to wear any of his costumes.  I didn’t question it.   A children’s entertainer, balloons and many many children.  The entertainer had apparently been doing children’s parties for 20 years.  Son 1 and Son 2 sat in for Pass The Parcel.  Son 2 got a lolly.  I could almost hear his brand-new teeth dissolving in the sugar as he crunched.  Their lunch consisted of:  the chocolate icing off the top of several fairy cakes, a chocolate biscuit.  Some iced biscuit rings.  Orange squash.   A dentist mother told me one day wouldn’t hurt, it was when it was spread over many many days that the damage happened.  I spoke to another mother who, it transpired, lives within a mile of us in The Town.   And she has A Girl!  Son 1’s new best friend,  I instantly decided.  As we walked back to the car: “Guess what, Son 1?  X lives very near to us!” “I don’t like X.”  “You probably don’t know her very well.  You can invite her to the house to get to know her better.”  “She’s not my friend.”  “Not yet, but - ” “I don’t like her.” “Why not?” “She’s a Gal.”

We got to Nanna’s via a Wednesday Friend to pick up their electric  pump. I stood outside Nanna’s house in the Arctic wind and lashing rain, pumping up the paddling pool from the cigarette lighter. Son 1 was beside himself with excitement.  They both went outside with it, we added water and stood back.  The sky was black with great heavy clouds rolling across without a break. It was very cold, very wet and very windy.  Son 2 burst into shivering tears and I took him inside.  Nanna had prepare a tea which was waiting in the kitchen.  Son 2 just pointed at it all and demanded to eat.  In the end we moved tea early, and they went back in the paddling pool after.  And then real, heavy, horrible rain came in. “Rain,” said Son 2, as it hammered against the windows. ”Rain.  Rain. Rain.”  After they’d gone to sleep I had to go out to the car in a cold monsoon and gather up the damp, half-deflated paddling pool, and a couple of bags I’d left.  within two trips I was soaked and freezing.  “Rain,” I thought. “Rain, rain, rain.”