It’s been a grim fortnight with both the boys suffering a week each of fever and phlegm.
It’s been so prolonged Sonny has started referring to Calpol as a pudding. Luca has a Calpol dance!?
Two weeks house-bound has meant they’ve had to draw up a gentleman’s agreement on some house rules.
They’ve agreed their levels of irritation:
- The pout and point.
- The growl.
- The “I don’t like you …..!”
- The ‘In-your-face’ tribal scream.
- The Meltdown.
Up until level four anything goes. Any amount of mockery or argument. No toy or space sacred.
At level four they’re allowed to call in what’s theirs. Sofa, favourite cars, choice of what they watch. There’s no right of appeal by level four.
We’ve had a few fives these last two weeks. We all leave the room on a five!
Having already endured two weeks of half-term misery, it was no wonder the activities were beginning to test their patience.
On Thursday we spent the afternoon snapping spaghetti. Why? Because we’d snapped all the linguine in the morning. My imagination knows no bounds!
The working title of my book is ‘Two half-term activities with spaghetti … and linguine’.
So desperate were we by week four that we set about finding a dozen uses for a nappy box.
We could have gone on but for the damn robot. We tried the box on for size. We couldn’t get it back off. Luca panicked. I panicked. Carnage.
It’s not all bad though. There’s been times when neither has been grumpy and they’ve enjoyed each others company. They’ve chased each other. Made each other laugh. Shared a joke. Even held hands while walking to town. Occasionally you could even be excused for thinking they were genuine friends!?
We’ve talked. Together. They ask incessant questions, they get incessant answers; some of which may be daddy-facts I admit, and no doubt they’ll come back to haunt them at school, but they do get answers all the same.
We discussed what they’d like to be when they’re older. Luca is only interested in hunting dinosaur bones. Sonny would like to be Michael Portillo. I kid you not!
Initially I assumed Michael Gove had slipped ‘Tory Party Greats’ into the pre-school curriculum. I’m still not convinced he hasn’t. If after watching Tree Fu Tom, Sonny casually remarks about the good-for-nothing miners I’ll be asking questions.
It was a relief to find out he’d actually been watching Portillo’s Railway Journeys with Janet. Still, there’s nothing quite so pompous as a three year old referencing ex-Tory Ministers in the Supermarket.
Next week we’ve agreed to go out. A LOT!