He should have been asleep for an hour. I’d been in once to pick up pig. Noises sent me in there again…
He was sitting in his gro-bag on the floor playing with his trains. As i walked in, he put the train down and picked pig, saying ‘Pig fall out, i get pig.’
He knew he shouldn’t be playing, and he knew how to pretend he wasn’t. The start of the road to polo mints hiding booze breath.
Clever. But oh so naughty.
Before the weekend, Leo had spontaneously said he’d see Whisky and Soda at Grandma’s house. But Soda died a few weeks ago. Claire explained that Soda had had a lot of ow-ow and that he had gone; now he didn’t hurt anymore.
Reading a book this evening, one page had a ginger cat. This set Leo off on quite a train of thought.
‘There’s Whisky … at Grandma’s house … no Soda.
Soda gone away.
Soda was big ow-ow. Now no ow-ow.
Bye bye Soda, nice to see you.’
Then he didn’t want to read any more and he put the book on the table. He then tried to cover the book with other books, and then carried a set to the stairs, saying that he had to ‘put books away’.
I think he understands that Soda has died, or at least that he won’t see Soda again. He certainly feels sad himself. I am pleased he is able to recall and speak of it, though i wonder if i should be surprised – most adults will speak of death in these terms, and find some happiness in the end of a loved one’s pain.
I wonder if he’ll react differently to this book now – whether to choose it more or reject it.
Has a dreadful cold.
He’s enjoyed being at Grandma’s for the weekend, but he wasn’t himself. A hacking cough often took over his carefree playing.
He is certainly less into animals and more into construction. On a little walk, he saw sheep and a horse and trap, but later it was the cement mixer from someone’s drive that he chatted about.
-Leo, time for nursery / brush teeth / bed
Overheard on the monitor early this morning:
“My mummy and my daddy are in bed. They are asleep”
I went to Ikea last night, and today assembled a new bed, toy storage boxes and put up a giant floaty leafything above said bed.
Yesterday we’d spoken to him of the new bed but he’d thought he was getting the Thomas travel-bed/sleeping bag he keeps seeing in all his magazines. Today he responded to his cool new big-boy’s bed with a quiet ‘no…Thomas…I want Thomas’. We explained that was a special bed for holidays only and if he’s good he might get one at Christmas.
By the way, another incredible Ikea story. The mattress was MOULDY. I’ll write that again: MOULDY. Little specks of mildew peppered one side. So i had to go back and get a replacement. Perfect way to spend a weekend – since i have no interest in spending any time with boy.
Broadband is back again in the Bowers house.
After so long with so much unsaid, there’s only one critical thing to catch up on. Daddy’s ow-ow eye. Leo was buzzing happy on thursday night, when, during the pull-off-socks-say-boo-to-toes game, he scratched his fingernail across my eyeball. I fell back in agony, through which i could hear ‘Sorry Daddy’ repeated over and over. When i could open my eye i saw him with wobbly lip leaning to hug me. Then he insisted on kissing it better.
I ended up going to hospital with it, and the scratch was a bit deep but should be better in a few days. He keeps pointing at it and saying ‘sorry daddy’, and i try not to flinch too much when his pointing finger comes close.