1.  A Hard Day’s Night

2.  This Will Be The Last Time

3.  You Really Got Me

Son 1 aged 4y 5m was in with me all night.  He’s always allowed the night before The Man comes home.  He is a heat-seeking missile who cannot be stayed from his course.  He is in bed to snug with Mummy, to lie against me and feel my eyebrows.  (Used to do it when he was breastfeeding.  Has never stopped.  Does it when he’s asleep. In my absence anyone’s eyebrows will do.  Also does it on Son 2 aged 18m.)  Son 2 aged 18m slept through, but woke at 6am.  I put his fan on (white noise) and got into the double bed with him.  He dozed.  Then he woke, cried, and wanted his sleeping bag removed.  I took it off.  He slithered out of bed, onto the floor, and off he went on his own.  ”Mummy’s staying in bed.” I said.  “Bye bye,” he said, stopping only to pull the blankets off the chair as he went past, opened the door and went out onto the landing in the dark.  He had the grace to totter back again and stand in the doorway.  “Mama.”  Ha.  Yes I had to get up but I think I still won on goal difference. 

We went to the New Play Centre.  On the positive side  (I Do Not Like The New Play Centre)  Son 1 had a blast, playing with Best Friend, Best Friend’s brother and another boy they know, Son 2 loved it.  He loved the Ball Pools, he loved being pushed around the baby area in a Little Tikes ride on car, he loved walking over the rope bridge, he loved playing with the sponge ball cannons, he loved rolling and climbing and sliding and pushing and just generally Being Big.  Son 1 was hilarious when I told him we weren’t buying lunch there. “Is that your tricking voice?”  No darling, they have again annoyed me and I shan’t be giving them any more money.  How do you explain the concept of a boycott to a four year old who wants sausage and chips.

Back home we had a good time. The boys ate their picnic lunches.  I got out some ham. It was smoked, and I’d bought 2 packets. “Try it, and if you don’t like it I’ll give it to Nanna.”  They wolfed it.  We played with the Wooden Railway.  Son 2 did a poo so big it went up to his neck.  Too much information, sorry.  But there was a big part of a crayon in his nappy.   He wears a one-piece vest.  His nappy tabs are fastened too tight for a crayon that size to fall down.  If something was blocking the tubes, that would account for the sheer volume when it came out.  But if Son 2 had swallowed that crayon he would have choked.  So how did it get there?  

Nanna arrived.  Son 2 wanted to watch The Wiggles again.  I booked tickets for The Wiggles.  Nanna will come.  I made Veggie Mince and tomato sauce.  Son 1 didn’t want the Veggie Mince.  But then ate it all.  A real breakthrough, offering  the possibility that I may be able to eat the same as them.  “Shall we try Daddy on this?” I asked Son 1.  “Daddy won’t eat Veggie Mince,” he said wisely.  The Man came home.  Nanna waved goodbye to Son 2 in the bath.  “Bye Bye,” he said.

1.  Messages From The Deep

2.  Sunday At The Pub

3.  One Star Dining

Son 2 aged 17m and I were sitting on some steps round a sports race track.  I dropped him, and I snatched at his clothes but no matter how much I tried I couldn’t get a good grip.  I called to The Man who was with Son 1 aged 4y 5m but no matter how loud I yelled he didn’t hear me.  The last bit of Son 2’s clothing fell away from my fingertips and he tumbled to the bottom of the steps, out of sight, and then emerged screaming, no longer wearing his trousers or nappy, his face red, his eyes closed in slits.  I woke up, realising that the reason my scalp, hairline and skin behind my ears has been itching for the last week isn’t head lice.  It’s a reaction to the new conditioner I’ve been ladling on to comb through with the Nitty Gritty.  It was 7am, and The Man was downstairs in the lounge with the boys watching Dora The Explorer.  I think I need more sleep.

Friends rang before 9am offering to take Son 1 out for a walk for an hour.  I said no, I can’t do without him when I’m not at work.  By 1015 we were coated, booted and ready for a walk through town.  Grey clouds descended and a cold wind whipped up.  The Friends’ van was parked outside the family pub and they were outside, having already done a bracing Sunday morning stroll.  We all trooped inside the pub for coffee, tea, and a play for Son 1 with their 3 year old.  By 11 Son 2 was unravelling, so off we went.  We picked up some bits we needed; Son 2 fell asleep in the Big Pram.  I said I wanted to make the most of his snooze so we went for coffee.  Son 1 had a new Ben 10 sticker book.  When he recited the names of twenty different aliens I wondered whether I should abandon my vague anti-mode and teach him to read.

This afternoon the boys played in the lounge.  Son 2 had the Wooden Railway out.  Son 1 alternated between playing with his castle, doing a puzzle and plonking himself in the middle of Son 2’s game and starting a completely different one.  Son 1 wanted to watch Harry Potter.  I said he couldn’t have it on with Son 2 around.  We settled for The Wiggles, again.  The Man rightly decided we were all too knackered for a Sunday roast, so they had sausages, leftover potatoes and peas and I had omelette.  Son 1 managed to sit at the table throughout.  He has another 8 weeks to learn to do it in front of Granny and Granddad on holiday.  Ever hopeful, we have started a new sticker chart.   8 stars gets him a Gormiti egg.