Last week finished with me overhearing the boys agree to be best friends. It was sealed with a high-five. A high-five followed by Luca handing over his favourite car, what remained of his banana, and asking for sweets on his brothers behalf. I’m guessing I may have missed the protracted negotiations that preceded this landmark agreement.
Even so, it was lovely to hear them agree to move their relationship on from one of toleration to something altogether more endearing.
It’s become known as the Good Friday Morning agreement; on account of it only lasting until lunchtime.
This week however I’ve become the embodiment of Mo Mowlem, refusing to let either party leave the negotiating table (until they’ve at least tried one vegetable), and ensuring that for every step back at least two steps forward are taken, even if they are taken reluctantly and with a helpful nudge in the back.
Five days on and I’m proud to announce that the ceasefire has held. Yes there has been the odd dissident pout and stare, one or two aggressively pointed fingers, and the occasional shout of ‘I don’t like you”, but for all intents and purposes the peace process remains on track. Such is the progress that Tony Blair has been seen milling around, waiting for a photo opportunity.
This monumental moment in history has far reaching implications for the wider world too (or more specifically me).
Of the dozen cups of coffee I make in a day I’m now drinking at least three of them.
The other nine remain somewhere safe. Out of the reach of flailing limbs and stray elbows. Hidden from the outside world until such a time as Channel Four decide to recommission Time Team.
I’m no expert in Egyptology but I’d hazard a guess at this being the reason why so many ancient relics are crockery.
Instead of running out of clean mugs on Tuesday, our game of ‘Find the lost cold coffee of daddy’ might not be played until Thursday. (Sometimes known as the ‘Ooh, look what’s growing in that cup!’ game).
Such is my confidence in this new found ‘free’ time that I’ve even dug out and dusted down my cafetiere. Obviously I have no coffee to use in it but still, fresh coffee on a weekday, imagine that!
That they’ll entertain each other means I can now make myself lunch after feeding them theirs. My diet has gone from one of passively drunk coffee and crusts to a sandwich and five minutes peace.
I can make dinner without a toddler hanging off my ankles and his brother perched precariously on the worktop snapping spaghetti.
I can enjoy a shower while they happily chase each other around the bathroom, at least until they leave the room together, armed to the teeth with toilet rolls and toothpaste.
But most of all I can just sit on the sofa and watch as they play together nicely, share a joke, or launch a combined assault in order to stop me going to the toilet. (Janet feels it necessary to add that I could also do a little housework. I think not).
Sometimes I’ve questioned my sanity in having two children so close together.
On weeks like this however I feel really grateful that they are but a year and three days apart.
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