1.  Fast Forward

2.  Scene Selection

3.   Pause

The Man is back, The Plumber has been, the hot water is back on, and I have had a shower.   Son 1 aged 4y 8m slept in, Son 2 aged 21m woke up and came down into the kitchen with The Man and me.  He ate blueberries and banana.  He sat at the little ELC plastic table colouring one of Son 1’s drawings.  He’s left-handed two out of three times.  The Man is left-handed, so is Granny and the Elegant Aunt.  I wonder when it settles.  Son 2 has learnt to run. The child who never stays on the floor if he can climb, cannot pass an open door without darting through it and can tank off for hundreds of yards without a backward glance can now do it all a lot faster.  Hooray.  “Daddy, you should see Son 2 run,” I said. “He’s very good at it.” Son 2 stood, a big smile on his face, and ran up and down the kitchen, overjoyed.  And then started doing little jumping attempts - stopping, swinging his arms up, springing - without yet leaving the ground. It wouldn’t surprise me if he is trying to take off. 

I took Son 1 to Nursery. Sports Day, postponed from last week in the rain. Last week I could have managed, this week I had to drive over to The City.  Son 1 fell over badly yesterday. He was given a jelly teddy sweet and came home with black and red knees.  Son 1 has a weirdie hip thing which means he can’t run fast because his legs flay out sideways.   fr http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/12/01/faster-legs/  His Wednesday Friends are always tearing off without him.  “I am going to run very fast,” he proclaimed as we got out of the car. “Well if you don’t run fast today, don’t forget that you fell over so you have sore knees,” I said, over-protective Mother trying to shield her child from the harsh truth of losing. In he went, off I drove.

When I got back they were watching their new Wiggles DVD (we are going to see them tomorrow.) Son 1 had run in three races. The potato race - pick a potato in your bucket, take it back, run up for the next one… the egg and spoon one “I think someone put oil on my egg because it wouldn’t stay on the spoon.” And a straight running race. Which he won. “X was winning but I runned past him.” Ah. OK. I will be less fast. To write him off.  On the camera were some pictures of Son 2 in the under-threes race. Smiling. Sun-hatted.  Clearly loving it.  With Wonder Nanny.  Pang.  Maybe, just maybe, not every other woman helping a small child in that race was the mother…

1.  Walking pace

2.  Normal Walking

3.  Nearly Walking

Getting to Nursery On Time was a Good Thing.  I was out of the door at exactly the right time to jump in the car and go, and get to Nursery avoiding the glacially-paced Monday traffic.  “Where’s the car?” I called to The Man, who’d parked it on Saturday.  “Outside XXX and YYYs,” he said.  XXX and YYY are friends who live 10 minutes’ walk away.  Oh dear.  I wasn’t a very good Example For The Children.  However.  The conclusion is that the longer, rural route to the Big Town is faster than the normal way, despite the mile-long crawl near the Industrial Estate.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m got there in time for the Hellos.

I had to pick him up again at 1.30pm because he had an appointment with a paediatric physio.  I think his right foot flays out when he runs.  She asked me lots of questions, watched him sit, walk and run, and then moved his legs up and down while he was lying on a couch.   She says both feet flay out, but when he’s walking both feet are turned in.  His hip joints in the sockets turn in, so his thighs turn in when he’s tired, so his lower legs flay out.   Stop him sitting in a “W” - which he’s done since he was a baby; he need to be cross-legged.  And get him to stand on one leg, and hop, when he can (he can’t yet.)   In the range of normal, but he’s never going to be an athlete.  Dang, and there’s us with athletes on both sides of the family.  Was it because he was breech? I asked.  She didn’t think so, it’s hereditary.  Somewhere on either side there is another “W” sitter.  It’s just how he is.

Back home and Son 2 aged 14m is almost ready to lift off.  He can comfortably walk eight or ten paces… and managed to slalom through a doorway this evening to get to me when I went upstairs.  He can walk many steps, several times in a row before he pretends to lose interest, plops down on his bottom and goes crawling off to change the subject.  He gives himself a clap before he starts, and then steps out confidently until he lets himself fall into the arms of whoever’s in goal.  And when he totters over to Son 1’s outstretched arms and plops on top of him at the end Mummy’s heart turns to mush.