1.  The Triumph

2.  The Trip

3.  The Trident

I’d left a stale packet of gingerbread men on the worktop in the kitchen overnight.  Downstairs at 6am with Son 2 aged 13m, I gave him milk and banana.  “Boo,” said Son 1 aged 4y 1m.  I left them both in the kitchen while I went to the loo.  Son 1 appeared, laughing and eating a gingerbread man.  “Son 2’s got one too,” he giggled.  I shouldn’t have left them out, I thought.  “You shouldn’t have left them out,” he said.

We went to visit an Old Friend this morning, someone I’ve known 17 years, whose elder son is a week older than Son 1.   Another two boy family.  She has a lovely, immaculate house, a lovely immaculate playroom with individual boxes for each group of toys, a lovely immaculate garden, and a lovely immaculate kitchen in which she was effortlessly making lunch for seven.  And she’s seven months pregnant.  Hey ho.   The boys had a riot, Son 2 played with fridge magnets, saucepan lids and the home-made Playdoh.  Son 1 and Elder Son have known each other since they were weeks old, and used to be at nursery together.  Son 1 misses him.  “Come again soon,” he said, when we left.

Then a fourth birthday party in the afternoon.  Madly over-scheduled children.  A Halloween theme, held at a cricket club.  Son 1 wore a mask, and carried a trident, monster feet and a free pumpkin from a CBeebies comic.  Son 2 wore a little bat outfit I found marked down in Woolies.  A bright, sunny afternoon so all the children ran around outside.  Son 2 wanted to play with the dog.  And then crunched up the leaves and explored the acorns on a path.  He liked the wheels on the barbecue.  He liked the crispy monster balls.  He liked hanging onto my fingers and walking.  Son 1 played and played.  When we got back at 1830 The Man was home.