1.  The School

2.  The Surgery

3.  The Shop

Son 1 aged 5y 1m went Back To School, hooray.  He was reluctant, felt poorly and couldn’t possibly manage breakfast. But then he forgot, and bounced around the kitchen, pestering Son 2 aged 2y 2m, playing with the big bunch of balloons I brought back from the concert and hollering loudly.  The School was lovely, pleased to see him, worried about him, and happy to give him his antibiotics.  I drove off, and then headed over to The City, an hour and a half away. 

Tootling back, I looked down at the clock. Five minutes till I had to pick Son 1 up.    And then I looked at the roadsigns.  Six miles from The Town.  I am Always Late For Everything.  Son 1 had been “a delight” at school, said Mrs Smiley. He also had a bright red mark on his face. I panicked. “I scratched it on my coat,” said Son 1.  In the car, I rang the Surgery for his swab result.  Strep confirmed.  Quelle Surprise. I feel very Clever Mummy for getting him up to the doctor within minutes of seeing the rash… but it’s still been a bit of a wake up call.   I’m an over-protective hypochondriac, but secretly, underneath all the fuss,  I always assume our every cough and splutter is just a cold.

I took Son 1 to Tesco after school.  We haven’t done a big shop for months, and I took ages. Son 1 was a saint. i said he could have a lego set for going back to school so well, and he was happy trailing round holding it and looking at it. At the till, the woman said “You’re a lucky boy having a toy so close to Christmas.” We told her our story. Then she told us hers.  Husband made redundant, so she has to work every shift she can.  Then her oven packed up. She went out and did a big shop because her Tesco vouchers arrived. Put it in the freezer. A day later noticed the food was soft. The freezer had packed up. Her son took a pizza to cook in the microwave, which includes a grill.  The microwave had packed up.  “Buy a lottery ticket,” I said.  “The law of averages says you’re in for a run of good luck.”  I do hope we haven’t given her scarlet fever.

1.  Rendering Unto Caesar

2.  Why Take Ye Thought For Raiment

3.  Suffer The Little Children

How To Halve Your Shopping Bill.  Walk to Tesco Express, instead of driving to the Superstore. Take a Big Pram, a large partner and two small children.  The grown ups are allowed one basket each. You are limited to what you can put under The Pram or carry home. And you have to race round like it’s a trolley dash because of bored, misbehaving children trying to sneak Halloween sweets into your shopping.    The Man took Son 1 aged 5 to choose a breakfast cereal. They came back with Chocolate Cheerios. “If we get those then we will never get them back on normal Cheerios and that will kill our main snack/emergency meal/blood sugar lift option,” I said, barely looking up from the Mild Chedddar.  Son 1’s face crumpled. “But I said he could choose what we wanted,” said The Man. ”Fine. Get them.  See what happens.” “They’re not Cheerios,” The Man tried. “Look, they’re Wheetabix.”  “Fine. Get them.”  “Well how am I supposed to know? This is the first I know about your new rule.  You should have said something.” “I did. Yesterday. When we were discussing how to get Son 1 to eat breakfast before school, and you said you’d seen Chocolate Cheerios. I said they’ll never eat normal Cheerios again if we get them.” “Oh yeah,” he said.  They trailed off together and came back with a Variety Pack.  So. Half price shopping.  The baguette broke on the way back, and so did the handle of the big box of (special offer) Fairy… but otherwise I feel we saved money, burned calories and even gave up drinking because we couldn’t carry any wine home. Value Was Had.

Granny and Granddad are visiting this week. They turned up with fairy cakes and flapjacks for Son 1 and Son 2 aged 2y 1m.  The boys couldn’t be bothered to leave the toys and telly long enough to go and let them in… but when I said There Is Cake they charged downstairs.  The Man went off on his Business Trip. G and G went off to check in to the Hotel With The River View.  We went upstairs into the Big Bedroom, because I want to move Son 2 out of 9m to 12 m clothes. I want him in 18m to 24m, but I have a nasty feeling that because Son 1 was bigger, he was in spring/summer stuff at that age.    I am The Mother So Efficient She Had Two Same Sex Children At The Same Time Of Year. And they’re different bloody sizes. Have some more cake, Son 2.

The Vicar rang on Friday to ask if we were going to Tea Service this afternoon, so we thought we better had. Granny came too. We did David And Goliath.  The boys made cardboard and silver foil shields. They did ok in the service - legged it during the Lord’s Prayer, but at least they started off still sitting in the pew, and then scoffed their dinosaur shapes, cheesy mash and veg tea. In the bath, Son 1 Sang Hosanna.  I tried to explain the words to him, without committing myself. “You can’t say you don’t believe in God, Mummy, or He’ll die,” Son 1 told me.  Eat your heart out Richard Dawkins, all you need is Peter Pan.   At his christening, well over three years ago, he was given a My First Bible, with child-friendly language and child-friendly illustrations .  Time to break it out, I thought. We did David And Goliath. We did Noah. I left Son 1 looking at it while I put Son 2 to bed. When I came back he’d found pictures of the crucifixion. “What are they doing?” “Seeing how long they can stay up there,” I said, quickly closing it and flicking backwards. Jesus in Gethsemane, being kissed by Judas while Romans stood about with spears and torches. “And what are they doing?” “Going On A Bear Hunt,” I said, putting it away and getting out You Choose. ”Did they catch one?” “I think so.”  Wrong on many levels, I know, but he’s five, it was late, and I am a moral coward.

1.  Peter Pan

2.  Baking Pans 

3.  Panic

Peter Pan was the DVD. Son 1 aged 4y 11m and Son 2 aged 23m were playing with the toy pirates. We bought Son 1 a new Captain Hook yesterday. He has got through 2 Disney ones, so now we’re on Toyshop Traditional.  The old Captain Hook fell to pieces.  Son 1had found a Peter-And-The-Children pin badge that I’d bought him. ”I’m a Peter Pan fan, aren’t I?”  Orwell fashion, I have come to love Peter Pan. Ignore the dodgy author and the political incorrectness, and name another children’s classic that’s as brilliant on Motherhood.  The Lost Boys and The Pirates who want Mothers, Wendy who doesn’t want to be a Mother to Peter, Mrs Darling sitting in the empty bedroom, and poor Peter, damaged by a closed window and another little boy asleep in his bed. ”If you find your mothers,” he said darkly, “I hope you will like them.”  I bought my copy new in 1972, price 25p.  And I grew up and had a son.  Who feeds pieces of broken Captain Hook to toy crocodiles. 

 A grey day, with two shattered children. We decided yesterday went askew because we got the meals wrong. We drove the Big Town to do a Big Shop. Son 2 fell asleep in the car, Son 1 was car sick. We went down to the River and parked. The Man and I had coffee, the boys ate peanut butter sandwiches for lunch.  In the supermarket, we bought heaps of cake and biscuit making ingredients. I have a week off, the forecast is not good, and I have much Uber Mother ground to make up. Son 1 longs for me to make a cake.  I find cake tins frankly baffling.  There are the ones with the clock hand things in them, presumably used for Getting Your Cake Out. And the ones that are rings with round circles at the bottom. Presumably also used for Getting Your Cake Out.  Greaseproof paper, baking paper, baking parchment. All for Getting Your Cake Out.  I’m only guessing, but is there sometimes a problem Getting Cakes Out?  But anyway. We can manage muffins. And Biscuits.  And Wonder Nanny will be here. I bet she can Get A Cake Out. 

We did a massive pile of shopping with loads of Sunday afternoon yellow stickers.  Son 1’s shopping treat was a Scooby Doo biscuit making kit. I thought it was going to be a box with biscuits for them to draw on with an icing pen. Oh no. Back home there was an egg and milk involved. I put too much milk and egg in the packet mix and ended up with gloop so sticky it glued my fingers together.  I finally fought my way out of the mixing bowl, and the boys rolled it, cut the Scooby shapes and we put them in the oven.  Son 2 washed green beans for tea.  They had roast lamb… I went for a run.

1.  Pushing Boundaries

2.  Pushing In

3.  Pushy Mother

A Very Grim Weather Forecast.  Wet. Really, Really, Wet. But clearing up Later On.  We decided our planned Bird Park trip could go ahead, but we would need to leave early. The Man helped us get out.  0930, in our macs just to go from the house to the car, double parked outside.  The house phone rang. The Wednesday Mum.  She forgot. We’re picking up another family and splitting them between us.  OK. We drove round and round looking for the right road.  And found a Post Lady to help. We found the right house.  Wednesday Mum gave us Best Friend to take, so she could take the Mother and two daughters in the other family.  Off we went.   Pouring with rain. The road we needed closed with miles and miles of diversions. And Son 1 aged 4y 10m and Best Friend giggling away as they yelled “Poo Poo Pants!”  and “Wee Wee Head!”  at each other. Son 2 aged 22m sat in his seat yelling “Bart!” (= fart) and laughing his head off.  I will remember not to be disappointed if this is as good as conversation in our 75% male household gets from now on. 

The Bird Park. Soft Play, on a hideously wet day in the summer holidays.  Every table full.  Wet macs, jackets and kagoules over the back of every chair.  Son 1 and Best Friend ran off, I plopped Son 2 in the baby area and found a table. I put our macs and bags on it, went to play with Son 1 and still had to fend off an older woman who snuck on the one seat I hadn’t baggsed.   The others took a while coming.  Son 1 and I had a good play. He stood on top of the jets, all his fine, long, blond hair blown vertically upwards. With his tee shirt full of air and a great delighted smile on his face.  We played with the balls, we climbed, we went down slides.  Son 1 was a pain. He spent the morning playing  a Fierce Game.  Growling and roaring at everyone. Eventually he fell out with Best Friend.  He roared, Best Friend lashed out. He cried.  So all three of us went to play on the Big Uns equipment together.  

And then we all went outside.  In our macs, the rain drumming down, no-one else out. Son 1 dropped his Knobbly Bobbly ice lolly.  I gave him 85p and told him to go back in and buy another one. He managed.  Amazing what motivation can do.  We saw owls, and otters. Son 2 just said “Fish.”  “Fish.” “Fish,” as we wound our way down to the farm area. He studied the fish - great fat koi - for as long as we’d let him.  We looked at the rabbits and the guinea pigs. Outside we fed rabbits and sheep with goat food. Son 1 was letting big sheep lap the pellets off his hands; Son 2 was still just a bit scared. There was a Daddy, Mummy and Baby donkey. Son 1 and I wondered if The Man would let us have a baby donkey.  Son 2 hung on the wire sides of the hen houses.  At penguin feeding time the other Wednesday MOther took her two boys back in. Not us. Son 1 sat on the side of the penguin pool trying to get picked to feed them. Son 2 cried with tiredness and pressed his face in to mine.  When it came to choosing the children, Son 1 didn’t get a look in. “Just get down,” I said, giving him a nudge over. Inside the penguin pen, he turned to me. “Did they say it’s all right?”  ”Yes it’s all right,” I said. “Did they say so?”  How well that child knows me. The keeper passed him and told him to come along, olonking a bucket of fish down beside him.  Son 1 and his new friends hurled them into the pool.   Next to Son 2 and me, two children behind the wall stood with their hands up.  We went round the pool to watch Son 1.  “Pin Gin” said Son 2.

1.  The Impersonator

2.  The Copycat

3.  The Mimic

The Man is Off On A Business Trip, so was trying to be helpful this morning.  He got up with Son 2 aged 19m, whose unappreciative, grief-stricken ”Ma Maaaaaaaaaaaaa” rent my heart as he was carried downstairs.    Son 1 aged 4y 6m, in the Big Bed with me, remained comatose while I put in my lenses, fussed about and tucked him in theatrically.  The Man made them pancakes and then Got On.  We went upstairs for books.  Son 1 watched “Babe” with Son 2.  Huge comedy potential, as Son 2 communicates mainly in animal noises, his favourites being dogs, sheep and pigs.  Snorting noises for pigs, baa-ing for sheep and his strange, owl-like woo woo for dogs.  Next time we watch it I’ll make it into a drinking game.  One swig for a snort, two for a baa, and three for a woof.  And a short for every Son 1question: “What’s pork?”  “Why did they take the Mummy dog’s puppies?” “Why does the farmer want to shoot Babe?”

Glorious weather yesterday, grim today.  Grey, wet and dark.  We went shopping.  We needed: 1) a present for  Son 1, who didn’t get an Easter egg from us.  (NB. Four barrowloads from friends-and-relations) 2) some Omega 3 tonic. 3) a wetsuit for Son 1, who strips off and runs into the sea, even in February.  Blue lips. Not a good look on a 4 year old. 4) fruit.  Son 2 fell asleep, so we went straight to the Toy Shop.  Well Son 1 hunted high and low.  And clearly, there was nothing he wanted.  A £70 Playmobil Knights Castle, which I already know, compulsive Mumsnet Lurker that I am, that I can get half price from the right website.  And which I don’t want to buy him,  as Son 2 is scarred for life from the split lip he got falling over on the battlement of the castle Son 1 already has.    We went to the Discount Shop.  Son 1 wanted a Biotronics toy.  Lego. 7 - 11 on the packet.  “You’re not old enough,” I said.  At that instant, a Little Blond Moppet Boy, clearly much younger than Son 1, arrived and stared at the stand, excitedly.  “Haven’t we got all these?” said Hearty Father, loudly.  LBMB drilled through and produced one he liked. “What shall we call him?” said Hearty Father.   Son 1 stood, staring.  “Excuse me,” I said. “Are these ok for four year olds?  He really wants one, but I’m so conventional I have to abide by the age range on the packet.”  “Oh we love them,” said Hearty Father. ”We’ve got four already.  They’ve all got names.”  “Brian?” I suggested. “Well, we have one called Stephen, don’t we X?”  X is an extremely distinctive name, and as I have said before in this blog, we are Really Rural.  Son 1 used to get bitten to death by an X at the Old Nursery he left seven months ago.  A Blond Moppet Boy, Littler than this one.  We got him his toy. “Is that X from the Old Nursery?” I whispered. “No,” said Son 1, cuddling his box. “X had different hair.”  We went in the queue behind Hearty Father, who had a shopping basket overflowing and a pillow under each arm. “Is that all you’ve got? Would you like to go first?”   How do such lovely fathers have such murderous children?

Didn’t get the wetsuit.  In the shop. “I need a poo!”  At home, at bedtime, Son 1 wanted “Daddy’s Lullaby.”  A library book I took out for Son 2, because it’s about a baby who can’t sleep.  Son 2 loves it, and will have it 3+ times a session.  I read it to Son 1 in the style of Son 2.  “And when he sees the empty cot, he goes ‘Bah!’ because he means ‘I’ve got one of those.’  Then Daddy takes the Baby into see the Big Brother.  ‘And I say, who’s your big brother?’  “‘Bah!’ and he points at the door.”  Son 1 thought this was hilarious. ”Read it again! Say: ‘Bah!’ “Sometimes,” I said, “Son 2 says something Very Like ‘Son 1′ when I say ‘Who’s your big brother?’ And I get very excited and say ‘Tell me again, tell me again,’ and he just sucks his cheeks in and looks around and pretends he can’t talk.”  Son 1 cried real tears.  “Read it again and I’ll pretend I’m Son 2 and I can’t talk!”  He couldn’t do it.  At the point where Son 2 is usually cat-like staring into the middle distance pretending he can’t hear me, Son 1 was laughing till he hurt.

1.  Darling Buds

2.  Primroses

3.  Hazelnuts

And Good Thing No 1 is that for the first time in ages (since they had their colds?) Son 1 aged 4y 4m, and Son 2 aged 17 went to sleep and woke up in their own bed/cot.  Not without trauma or incident, but it’s a start.  Son 2 cried so much yesterday evening that we simply had to leave him.  We were both working and in the end, after each of us had spent a couple of 20 min+s with him, we had to give up and let him cry.  Which I’m not doing again as I can’t stand it.  But… he did stay asleep in the cot till morning.  A Gold Star to the little boy with the Very Loud Voice.  Son 1 came floating up to the Big Bed at 4am, and I led him back down to his own bed.  I got in with him, and then when he’d gone back to sleep I went in the bed in Son 2’s room.  After so many nights of me in one bed with one child, and The Man in the other bed with the other, I am pleased. 

We got to Nursery in plenty of time.  Son 1’s last day before his half term.  There are some daffodils in bloom on the other side of the road to the Muddy Path.  And primroses.  “I won a prize when I was a little girl for drawing a primrose.” “What did you win?”  “I can’t remember.  I got a certificate.”  “Can i see the picture?”  “I haven’t got it anymore.”  “Can I see the certificate?”  “I haven’t got that any more either.  I know I was very proud.”  In the Nursery, Son 1 showed me his snowmen pictures, up on the wall.  Son 1 with his Snowman.  The Snowman, without Son 1.   Nursery wrote us a note in Son 1’s book thanking us for the photos.  “Son 1 is very proud of them.”   

Son 1 and I went shopping.  He struggled to get past the Power Ranger toys, Ben 10 jumpers/socks, and power ranger/Ben 10 outfits.  I let him choose a cake to eat at the till.  He chose a doughnut with chocolate icing and chopped hazelnuts.  Up and down the aisles.  He sat in the trolley.  He did pretty well, although it really isn’t a good idea to take him.  At the till I gave him his doughnut.  As I packed the shopping: “Mummy can you take these bits off, I don’t like them.”  I packed up, I paid.  I pushed Son 1 to the side.  And then stood there picking off scores and scores of hazelnut pieces.  I got most of them off, and gave the doughnut back to Son 1 with just a few dotted about on it.  He spent the time from the shop to the car meticulously picking every piece off.  In the car on the way home he ate the chocolate icing and then passed me the ring with it’s top chewed off.

1.  Departure point

2.  The Arrival

3.  Destination

I had an Office meeting out in the woolly wilds.  To get there I had to drive through the Village where The Man and I used to live, and round shady country lanes, still icy in the sunlight, leaveless trees silhouetted against the blue sky, rolling fields glowing in the sunshine… All my old running routes.  i ran those roads so often, in so many kinds of weather, that I could almost reach straight back to a morning like today, when only the sound of my feet on the tarmac and a bit of birdsong broke the silence, when I felt cold and warm, alive and envigorated.  An almost senseless network of roads forking, joining, looping and twisting, which I learned by just running along on sunny mornings and choosing left or right randomly.  

A friend living near the venue for the Meeting has just had a 9lb little boy.  The Man and I sorted out baby toys last night.  Pang.  So I stopped off with cards and presents for him and his two brothers. He was gorgeous.  11 days old, soft, floppy, a thatch of black hair, heavenly little hands, a tiny gummy mouth and a little blobby nose.  Used to Son 2 aged 15m’s rigid, solid form, I picked up the newborn and nearly caber-tossed him at the ceiling.  How are they ever that small?  He was lovely, he slept all the time, and my friend is indeed a Very Clever Girl.  At the point where his eldest brother offered me a game of Power Ranger Top Trumps, I left for my meeting.

The plan was, I would get out of The Office a bit early, collect Son 1 aged 4y 3m, go shopping with him in Tesco and solve the problem that at home, there was no food, washing powder, loo rolls or cleaning stuff.  Plans, schmans.  I got out of The Office a Bit Late, picked up Son 1 a Bit Late, got to Tesco Very Late, and then had a bored, tired, hungry and grumpy 4 year old to tow round while I did a mega-shop.  He got: jelly tots, character pasta, a marked-down Christmas biscuit icing kit, a black forest gateau and a box of ice lollies.  He did not get: a Ben 10 top, a Ben 10 chocolate egg (Yup, they’ve put them out already) a comic, a toy or a box of cream cakes.  I’m putting that down as a score draw.  We were back so late that The Man was trying to get Son 2 down for the night.  So we sabotaged that effort.  Son 1 said Goodnight to Son 2.  Son 2 let himself be cuddled, snugged, and let Son 1 stroke his cheek.  “I love you, Son 2, you’re so handsome,” said Son 1.

1.  Mushrooms

2.  Shopping

3.  Ten Steps

Son 2 aged 14m woke up when I went to bed at 2215 and would not go back to sleep.  I went down to him at 2230, gave him Calpol and water and did my head-in-the-cot thing till 2310.  And then at 2315 he woke again.  I’ll just leave him, I thought, and if he’s still up at 2345 I’ll go and get him.  I couldn’t get up at 2345.  See yesterday’s entry about the 0515 start.  At midnight I went down, switched his fan back on, told him he was being very naughty and had to go to sleep now.  He cried for about 10 minutes more and then went to sleep.  At 0630 I woke up with an oh-mi-god he’s dead start.  He wasn’t.  Son 1 aged 4y and 1m slept in till 0715.  We were at Nursery a bit earlier than usual and parked further up the drive than normal.  There were many, many mushrooms the size of dinner plates in the leaves under the trees.  Son 1 was delighted, and rushed to tell his Nursery teacher. “I like mushrooms now Mummy.”  See http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/04/01/zoom-zoom-zoom  

Marks were having a 20% off everything sale today.  I would like to have gone, but there was so much to do at The Office that I didn’t get near it.  I might boycott them now because I don’t want to pay 20% more than everyone else just because I work.  And the bags thing is annoying me too.  I have a house full of Bags For Life I never use because I am Too Busy to remember them.  So being positive instead of just crabby,  I went to Tesco instead after work and did a Big Shop.  Free carriers.  The Man had kept Son 1 and Son 2 up waiting for me to get back.  I parked the car outside, and Son 2, in The Man’s arms, burst into loud angry tears as soon as he saw me.   

The boys ransacked the shopping.  Caught in friendly fire: 2 Innocent smoothies; 1 yoghurt, 1 gala apple and 1 grape.   Upstairs I tried to get out of my work outfit and into clothes Son 2  could snot on.  He gazed at me, holding on to the red chair.  And then walked, confidently about 10 or 11 steps to get to me before plopping down on his bottom.  I called Son 1 and The Man and they came rushing up. We tried and tried to get him to do it again.  We stood him, we balanced him… and he plopped down and crawled off, laughing.

1.  Mummy time

2.  “Shop for food together”

3.  Escape

The Man’s gone away on a Business Trip.  We waved him off and had breakfast.  Son 2 aged 1 his usual banana, weetabix and yoghurt.  Son 1 aged 4 hummus, red pepper and breadsticks.  Which is what he had for tea last night.  Son 2 insisted on breadsticks and dipped them into his mush.  He’s still off form.  Hacking cough, streams of snot, a fever.  “We’ve got chickenpox,” the Old Nursery said, matter-of-factly yesterday.  I’ve peered at his skin all day.   He slept for two hours this morning.   Son 1 had a fire in the Scooby House, attended by the big wooden fire engine, the little wooden fire engine, the little wooden police car, Son 2’s ambulance and the tiny wooden ambulance and Harold from the Thomas set. Play abandoned in favour of pestering Mummy to watch telly with him.  So we did.  Shark’s Tale.  Which I’m sure is a DVD I bought well before we had children, but never had time to watch.  Maybe I was busier in the old days than I think.

Out we trudged in the rain to the library to change the books.  We went to Tesco because we needed fromage frais and yoghurt.  We ended up with: crumpets “these are my very very favourite,” laughing cow soft cheese portions “I like these,” trifles “can I have a treat because I didn’t have a DVD?” a box of Fab lollies (half price) and a four-pack of plain yoghurt with jam at the bottom.  I’m sure I wasn’t choosing food in shops when I was 4.  Mind you, I’d left home before I’d heard of half the stuff which is the boys’ favourite.  Hummous? Pesto? Breadsticks?  Maple Syrup?  I think I used to eat breadcrumbed things full of cheese sauce and a heck of a lot of Angel Delight. And I’m pretty sure there was always a cake on the table while we ate our (savoury) tea, which we then had afterwards.  I can’t have a cake in the house if I want Son 1 to eat his main course.    

Son 1 started tucking into his shopping as soon as we got back, so we did tea early.  Son 2 did well.  Couldn’t manage crumpets, but enjoyed a Plum 10m+ pot of spinachy pasta.  Ate about half and mortared the cracks in his high chair with the rest.  And then fed me Cheerios, cackling joyfully. I left them in the bedrooms while I came downstairs for the laptop to play Son 1’s Horrid Henry Cd.  When I went back, Son 1 was demurely lifting the flaps in his dinosaur book.  Son 2 was nowhere to be seen.  There was a crash from upstairs.  He’d legged it up a floor as soon as my back turned and was trying to get into the soft bricks.    

1. 8.04am

2. Shopping

3. Discharged

0804.  Woke up, son 1 aged 3y 10m in bed beside me.  I remember The Man wandering off in the night.  I remember Son 1 clambering up, and then clambering over as he realised there was an entire half bed on the other side of me.  I remember a cry at dawn from Son 2 aged 11m.  I got up, and put my contact lenses in, my heart slowing and my throat tightening.  This is it.  This is the last time I’ll still think he’s alive.  ”Mummy!” called Son 1. I ignored him and went downstairs. I pushed at the bedroom door.  “Waaaaah!” A little rabbit, sitting upright in the cot, peering at me in the gloom.   It was in fact a shockingly unexpected lie-in.  The whole family got an extra two hours.  That’s a whole night’s sleep between the four of us.  A wee giftie from the little rabbit.

It all made us late for our shopping trip, but who cares?  The idea was to go to the Big Town, go round toy shops so Son 1 could choose his birthday present, choose a birthday present for Son 2, have lunch, and then go to the Hospital.  We went to the Wooden Toy Shop and Son 1 chose a drum set. Son 2 and another baby chose a little music centre.  I chose another present for Son 1’s little friend.  We headed off for TK Maxx, where Son 1 picked a very unpleasant plastic ambulance for Son 2. Then lunch.  Son 1 played merry hell.  After we’d all eaten, I remember I’d chosen the cafe because they had a stack of children’s books and a ton of toys.  Son 1 was silenced and stilled by Where’s Wally.  The others went to the Early Learning Centre. I went back to the Wooden Toy Shop to order the drums.  I joined them at the ELC.  Son 1 doesn’t want the drumkit any more.  He wants a large plastic castle with knights.  Ask Santa for it, I said.  

At the Hospital they weighed Son 2.  Not back on line 9 on the chart. Sigh. Everyone had started to say he was filling out and his face was looking chubby.  I told the consultant that I was happy with him, that I’ve taken him off all his meds, but I’m worried about his weight - I thought he’d be putting weight on now he’s (mostly) stopped being sick. And I’m worried about him getting a gastro bug again.  She said the weight will take a long while to go back on.  And she doesn’t think he ended up in hospital so quickly because of his reflux; she thinks it was just a bad bug which would have done the same to any child.  She says she wants the dietician to see him again, but she doesn’t need to. This evening I spoke to my friend whose first son was a thin baby. Stop weighing him, was her advice.