1.  A Happy Child

2.  A Blushing Bride

3.  A Respectable Mother

So. A while back, I told Son 1 aged 5 that going to school on your birthday means a party before, a birthday tea on the day, and a Treat the weekend after. He wanted to know what the Treat would be.  Going to the Willy Wonka Sweet Shop and choosing whatever you like. So after breakfast we stepped out, Son 2 aged 2 in the Big Pram, and Son 1 walking.  Son 1 didn’t want to walk.  He wanted Son 2 out of the Big Pram.  I have lurked long and shamefacedly on the parenting threads and established that no-one else is still pushing their schoolage child around in a Pram he outgrew two years ago. When He Is Five, I told myself, we will stop. So. Son 2 stayed in the pram. And Son 1 rode all the way through The Town on the axle of the Pram, holding on to the handles like crutches.  The Sweet Shop was brilliant. Chocolates and lollies and chews and fudges and jelly beans and picknmix and toffee and Everything.  I bought them both a 10p lolly to suck while they peered, pop-eyed, at it all.  Son 1 chose a big colourful Childcatcher lolly, so Son 2 had to have the same. And they chose a walking stick full of jelly beans for later. 

We were going to a Young Friend’s wedding. Late lunchtime kick off. The boys wouldn’t eat their lunch because they were full of lolly, so I took a packed lunch for the church. I put them in the purple velvet waistcoats I bought them for Son 2’s christening. Son 2 was christened when he was 8 months old.  His waistcoat did look a little strained across the tummy, but otherwise it did ok.  A 2 year old in 6m - 12m clothing. He really is small. I wonder if I should get him looked at. The vicar was grumpy, and stumbled all over the Dearly Beloved bit. No photos. No confetti here, there or there. No videos. And there’ll be a collecting plate at the back for you to pay to restore our historical but crumbling church. Son 2 dropped a mango smoothie all over the historical floorboards.  The bride was radiant, with a sunbeam smile which almost cheered the vicar up. Her parents cried throughout.  ”Chitty Bang Bang” said Son 2 during the ceremony. “Big Poo,” he said during the signing of the register. Outside they loved throwing confetti, and with other children, picked it up and threw it over each other after the bride and groom had moved on. It was a grey afternoon, but a great shaft of sunlight broke through the clouds as they got into their open-top wedding car to drive away.

Nanna babysat Son 2 while The Man and I took Son 1 to the Evening Do. The plan was that we would let him be grown up, and then leave early. We pushed him across The Town in The Big Pram - whoops, there went my good intentions - with him talking about Kung Fu Panda all the way.  He was delighted to find there were cameras on every table… although as a child of the digital age it was news to him that you have to wind film on.  He danced a bit in my arms, but he was incredibly tired.  I’d brought a pillow and a blanket, and he made himself a little bed behind a row of chairs and off he went to sleep. We stayed till midnight, decanted him back into the Big Pram and pushed him back home through The Town. A drunken reveller cat-called something like: “Take that child home! Call yourself a respectable mother?”  Clearly referring to the five-year-old in the pushchair. Can’t have meant anything else, can they?

1.    Graffiti

2.    White Noise

3.    Performance

Son 2 aged 22m has scribbled in biro on my lovely leather chair again. See here for previous episode. http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/04/27/wheres-spot/  He was in the lounge with Son 1 aged 4y 10m, watching telly while I did my hair and make up.  A Wednesday Mum rang, Son 1 answered and brought the phone upstairs. I chatted - her car’s broken down so they couldn’t come on today’s planned outing - and went downstairs with the phone and Son 1.  “Dor!” said Son 2, happily, pointed at his artwork.  Black. Circles. He’s pressed hard, And he’s done crosses on the arms as well. I was livid. I held him at arm’s length, yelling at him for being naughty, took him upstairs, dumped him in his cot and closed the door.  I went downstairs, out of breath from stomping up too quickly.   I sorted the washing out. I put the washing on.  I heard a high-pitched wail from upstairs. I cleared up a bit in the kitchen.  After 5 full minutes (I never leave him more than two in case he climbs out. But I was cross) I went back upstairs and opened the door.  He was standing in the corner of the cot, his arms folded.  He smiled. “Dat! Up Dere!”  He pointed out of the window.  If you’re bored, standing in the corner of the cot you can see the squatters’ bungalow up the cliff behind us (see here for previous episode http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/07/25/cliffhanger/) On the doorstep, in front of their red door, sat a black cat.  He says he won’t draw on Mummy’s chair again.  And Mummy says she won’t leave a 22m old alone in a room with a leather chair and a biro.

We were going out to a Play Day in the Big Town.   I packed up the car, including the boys, and remembered my phone. On my way back I saw a neighbour, someone we see to talk to about twice a week. She had some time off last week, and she and her long-term partner had a low-key wedding. I was thrilled , and told Son 1 as soon as I got back in “I just saw Neighbour!  She and Partner have got married!” “I knew that already,” said Son matter-of-factly. “How did you know that?” “I saw her with Wonder Nanny and she told us then.” “But it’s really exciting! Why didn’t you tell me?” “I forgot.”  Oh God.  He’s such a bloke already.

All the Play Day parking was gone by the time we got there, and men in yellow jackets were telling people to drive three miles out of Town and get the Park And Ride.  I parked at The Office, well over half a mile away.  Son 2 wanted to get out of the Big Pram, Son 1 wanted to get in. But we were seeing some friends we hadn’t seen for ages http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2008/12/03/the-christmas-tree/ so I wanted to hurry.  The Play Day was in the Town Park.  Or the Town Paddy Field, as it should now be known after countless days of rain.  The ground was sodden and sopping. We found our friends. The big boys were shy of each other at first, Son 2 just wanted to get out of the Pram, the 2 year old wasn’t really up for a play.   We found some bouncy castles and they bounced. They ran off to the playground area and played on balances and slides. Son loved the sea saw. We had lunch and headed to the Marquee to see acrobats we’d last seen at The Freezing Fiesta http://mumsnet.com/blogs/serenedays/2009/05/26/the-freezing-fiesta/.  They were very good.  Handstands, acrobatics, diablos, girls with sashes doing aerial ballet up in the roof.  A band, a clown, and fire-jugglers.  The fire-jugglers let great balls of flame roar upwards. The clown, casually juggling three burning sticks on the stage where the band were playing yelled: “No! Not in the tent!” at the fire-eaters.  Last time we saw them, he cleared children from underneath the aerial ballerinas half way through their act.  I do like their Health And Safety style.   We went to the playground, the Big Boys played on the roundabout. “And me! And me!” cried Son 2.  There was a posse of bigger children on the roundabout. “Can he go in the middle?” I asked them. “Slowly, slowly, spin it slowly” they hissed to each other.  “Jack! Mind that baby!” barked a father from the bus shelter. “It’s ok,” I called back. “They’re being very good.”  Son 2 was spun slowly.  I took him out. He cried and reached back for it.  “Can we sit on the outside and I’ll spin it?” I asked the posse.  They assented.  I span us round and round. I took him off when I was dizzy.  The posse piled back on and whizzed it round like a drill bit.  We bought cold drinks, and went back to the tents. There was a circus workshop on. Son 1 and his friend span sticks round and round like majorettes. Son 2 was fascinated by a diablo.  He held the sticks, I helped him get it on the string… he tried to throw it off.  Guess what I used to call him in his reflux days.