The One In Which We Prepare For Primary School

Littleboy1 starts primary school on Wednesday, and I tell you, he couldn't be more ready.

He has his little, newly-polished school shoes lined up in the hallway, placed next to his new Manchester United backpack, which contains his pencil case, folders and his juice bottle which will be filled with orange juice on Wednesday morning. There is a space in his bag for his matching Manchester United lunch-box, and I have all he needs in either the fridge (ham for his sandwiches), freezer (frozen yoghurts which will have melted by the time lunchtime arrives) or cupboards (biscuits, jam).

I'm really confident about this. Most parents will be nervous, worried, thinking 'how will s/he do away from home for 6 whole hours?', seeing as though nursery is only a 3-hour thing, but I think he'll be fine. He doesn't seem the sort that would suddenly break down, the sort that is frail about these things. Knowing him, he'll actually want to stay come home-time, and not race out of the doors, arms wide, ready to embrace me.

The other day, when Littleboy1 was playing with his Lego pieces and making a random, non-colour-coordinated castle, I went to ask him how he was feeling about being away from home for so long.

"I don't care," he said simply and plaintively, clearly wanting me to clear off and let him build his castle in peace.

"That's good," I replied.

"Yes. Good. Bye Mummy."

Charming.

The One In Which I Catch A Cold

Bit of a boring title, really, but then again, so is this cold.

I’ve been stuck in bed for the past few days, box of tissues by my side and used ones by the other.

Hubby daren’t come in in case he catches something, so I’m all alone in this pit of misery.

Littleboy1 tried coming in earlier, with a ice-cold lemonade (not really what I need, but still, it’s sweet), but Hubby pulled him out as soon as he set foot in the room.

It’s as though I’m diseased.

I haven’t seen hide nor hair of Jasper since I developed this mild bout, but I suppose that’s a good thing, seeing as though I don’t want his hairs up my nose to make this worse.

For breakfast this morning, Hubby brought me breakfast in bed (how sweet…), wearing a doctor’s mask.

“Take that stupid thing off,” I said as I held the tray. A get well soon card was placed next to my toast from Littleboy1 - handmade.

It says:

Mummy get well soon please love Littleboy1 x x x x x x x x x x x x

I placed it on the window ledge so that I could stare at it, reminded of his love for me.

Hubby kissed my forehead (still with the mask on) and left me alone.

This is going to be a nice week…

The One In Which I Finally Show My Face After The Incident

After a couple of days of hiding behind the sofa with the curtains closed and the door locked and bolted, I finally decided to show my face outside the house of the damned.

I wrapped myself in a dark coat, borrowed Littleboy1’s top-hat from his magic set (it was a little tight, but it was good enough) and made off.

It was as if the Pink Panther theme was playing as I edged out of the driveway, on my knees, practically crawling.

“HIYA!” Suzy screamed, waving ferociously from the other side of the road. “FINALLY RECOVERED?”

She burst into giggles and so I got up and ran. I didn’t know what I was meant to be doing on this little revelation. Was I going to knock on all my neighbours’ doors and say “Hiya, I’ve finally decided to show my face after my dog made my name a mockery. Anything to say to that?” or was I just going to walk around, waving at everyone and spitting upon the route I’d travelled on my stomach?

As I entered the field, a woman walking her own greyhound practically collapsed with laughter, imitating my own incident.

Oh please. That greyhound couldn't drag you across the field if it tried, I thought, staring at her beer gut as she passed.

I finally gave up and turned round, trudging back to my not-so-humble abode.

“Where’ve you been?” Hubby asked as soon as I entered the house.

“Out.”

I then noticed his expression.

“What, can’t I just go out for a walk without there being a specific reason?”

Hubby didn’t even have to think. “Well, no. And what in the world are you wearing?”

He pulled the top-hat off my head (forgot about that…maybe that was the reason I got so many weird stares) and gave it to Littleboy1 who was passing through.

“Daddy, why was Mummy wearing my special magic hat?”

“I have no idea,” was his reply, and he took Littleboy1 outside to play some football.

Jasper seemed to know I was after him, so was hiding somewhere…

The One In Which Jasper Embarrasses Me

Yesterday, I decided to take Jasper for a walk. Hubby was the one who took him every day and night, before he went to work and when he’d got back - he didn’t complain.

But yesterday, I decided I’d have a go - how hard could it be, walking him over the fields?

“Are you sure?” Hubby sniggered, when I’d told him.

“What do you mean?” I replied, attaching Jasper’s lead onto his collar.

Hubby couldn’t talk for laughing, so I just ignored him and left, oblivious to what was in store for me.

I walked him up the road, and opened the gate leading onto the fields, closing it behind me.

As we walked, I saw a figure in the distance, with a tiny little figure running along beside it.

As we neared them both, I noticed it was my friend Suzy and her little Yorkie, Jack.

“Hi, Faye!” Suzy said, coming to a halt beside us. “And, hello Jasper!”

I replied with a ‘hello’ whereas Jasper greeted her with a swift lick to her palm.

Jasper, enjoying the company, was showing off, leaping around in circles and dancing on the grass.

Suzy was laughing her head off, Jack looking a bit terrified of the huge greyhound leaping around before him.

Suddenly, without any warning or second thoughts, Jasper raced off, dragging me along behind him. I’d seen this in funny movies, but never thought it’d ever happen to me!

He raced along the whole field, showing off his speed, while I was racing through the grass, screaming and yelling, “stop, Jasper! STOP!”

I could faintly hear the hysterical giggles coming from Suzy behind me, even as we got further and further away.

Thanks Jasper. I’ll never live it down.

The One In Which I Adopt A Greyhound

We did it. We actually did it. We adopted a dog.

The process was quite hard - I’ll spare you of all the boring details. The long and short of it is, we adopted a greyhound (so a big, big, big thanks to notSupermum - I’d never have been able to do it without your help - I wouldn’t know where to start) and called him Jasper.

Littleboy1 has fallen in love with him. While Hubby and I went to do all the boring stuff, I left the children at home with my mum.

When we eventually came home, armed with dog, Littleboy1 raced (no pun intended) to the door, wrapping his arms around Jasper (God knows what he was named after - Littleboy1 felt it suited him…) and showering him with kisses.

“I love Jasper, I love Jasper, I love Jasper,” he kept repeating, until we were able to chant it with him all in unison.

Jasper seemed at ease almost straightaway - he seemed to adore Littleboy1, and was following him around the house all day.

It got so bad that Littleboy1 even insisted that Jasper joined us for dinner. “No, darling,” I said. “Jasper can’t eat tea with us at the table. He has his own little place over there.”

I pointed to his bowl.

Littleboy1 promptly picked up his plate, put it down on the kitchen floor next to Jasper and his bowl, kneeled down and started to eat.

I didn’t stop him.

Before you call social services to report me on being a bad mother, in my defence, I was too busy dying of laughter to do anything about it.

I have a feeling Jasper is going to like our family.

The One In Which I Consider a Dog

I’ve always wanted a pet. Ever since I was yay-high I wanted a dog, a cat, a hamster, a tortoise, anything. But my parents were quite strict. My dad had allergies, so I couldn’t have a cat or a dog. My mum hated rodents, so I couldn’t have a guinea pig or a hamster. That only left a few options, and my parents didn’t like them, so I couldn’t even have a budgie or a parrot.

Since I never had the chance, I forgot all about having one when I moved in with Hubby, and had my Littleboys.

But today, those memories came back with just one question from Littleboy1’s lips.

“Mummy, can we have a pet?”

It all flooded back to me. The protests, the pleas, the tears, the shouts, and the sneezes.

I had to think about it for a moment. What if I didn’t want one anymore? I’d been so hopeful all those years, and what if it wasn’t meant to be? But I didn’t want to deprive Littleboy1 of a pet, not after what I went through.

“What kind of pet?” I asked, hoping a sensible answer would follow.

“A dog!”

I mentally wiped my brow and smiled. I said yes without thinking. Hubby was still at work - he didn’t have allergies, did he? He didn’t show any signs during hay-fever seasons, and when he saw dogs in the street he’d grin and cuddle them, however big, small or furry they were.

Littleboy1 happily started to dance around the kitchen, singing a song from one of his Cbeebies programmes.

Oh, great. Now I have to get him a dog.