1.  Secret Screams

2.  Secret Pictures

3.  Secret Peace

Son 1 aged 4y 9m has escaped Night Terrors. Other Mums have sat there with their screaming, staring children, sleeping spookily bolt upright in bed as they yelled and yelled.  Not Son 1. Until we put Son 2 aged 21m in with him.  And lo.  Last night.  Shouts and screams, loud enough to wake The Terrace.  While sound asleep.  Son 2 - who can be woken by an eyeblink  - slept through it. 

Wonder Nanny has an eye problem, so we were on our own today.  The children were worn out, so we aimed at a Boat Trip, the idea being, as usual, that the chug of the Little Fishing Boat engine would White Noise the lads off to sleep. And The Man and I would get Peace And Quiet.  Son 1 didn’t want to go on The Boat.  Son 1 had seen Mr Maker doing secret pictures.  White wax crayons, biscuit cutters and ink.  He was busting.  We left Son 2 playing with water (”Wa Wa. Wa Wa.”) in the garden while we quickly made the secret pictures. I crayoned. Son 1 inked.  He loved the results.

Son 2 saw some choc rolls going into the picnic bag.  “Choc choc. Choc choc.” He pushed a little green chair across the kitchen, stood up and pulled the picnic bag off. It fell on his head, and knocked him off the chair. He landed on his bag on the floor with the picnic bag on top of him.  Both boys dived for lunch as soon as we got out on The Boat.  I’d forgotten the suntan lotion, which ruled out the beach as an option.  We chugged along the river instead. Son 2 eventually went to sleep. Son 1 didn’t. He painted in the cabin. The Man and I drank coffee. ”Is there any hot chocolate for children?” asked Son 1. Good point. We’ll get some.  The river is wide and peaceful, greenly wooded on each side below great expanses of sky.  Like swimming in the sea, it helps.

1.  Sod’s Law

2.  Law Courts

3.  The First Rule Of Parenting

Both boys decided to have a lie in this morning.  On holiday, when we had nothing to do except Find The Family in the cafe at 11, whenever… 6am.  On Saturday, flying back, clear out of the villa by 1030… we had to wake them up.  This morning, needing to get Son 1 aged 4y 7m to Nursery… needing to get me to the Big Town by 9am… zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzzz.   I had breakfast, showered, sorted holiday washing, did my hair and make up, made snacks… still nothing.  I eventually got Son 1 up with the promise of Ice Age 2 in the lounge.  And Son 2 aged 20m finally stirred when I marched into his room braying Good Morning and pulling down the blanket and blackout blind.

We got out in plenty of time for Nursery.  All very pleased to see Son 1, and took a delighted interest in the holiday photos we’d printed off.   Then I went off to Court for Jury Service.  Rather baffled about whether I can say anything about it at all.  We never got into court, there was lots of waiting around and then we were all sent home.  Is that ok?  And  hilarious male-female split while we were all loafing around waiting for anyone to want us.  All the men sat singly aloof, reading papers, out of sight of the women.  Who sat on two tables, drinking coffees, trashing the lunch menu, comparing jobs, where we all lived and how many children we had, and what they want to do when they leave school.

I picked up Son 1 a bit early, which was nice, and we headed home.   Son 2 had had a quiet day with Wonder Nanny.  She moved house while we were away, which is all part of her spectacular marvellousness.  A Very Good Thing.  Too complicated to think about if she’d needed time off when I can’t get out of Jury Service and The Man is away…    One of our neighbours is an elderly nun who can’t hear very well.  Which means in 8 years I’ve had very few conversations with her. And they’ve all been started by me. Sister X stopped me yesterday to tell me how lovely Wonder Nanny is with the children and what a very sweet girl she is. When Son 1 and I came back today I watched Son 2 in the back garden for a while.  He was playing with the water in the sand pit.  Wonder Nanny, sitting on the steps watching, said something to him and he waddled over to her.  Then he waddled back again, with a Shane Warne-style strip of suntan lotion down his nose.  He went back to her, and again, returned to the sandpit, this time with a stripe under his lip to protect his scar.  Outside, I protested it wasn’t fair.  “He never stands still for sun lotion.  He’s like a bat in a barrel when I try!”  Wonder Nanny smiled. ”They never behave for their parents.”