The One In Which I Wash My Hair With Sick

So, Littleboy1 has had his first week (well, 3 days) at primary school now, and he's enjoyed every second.

"Mummy, when is school?" he asks pretty much every hour on the hour.

"After the weekend, honey," I always reply, trying to get on with the housework but failing.

Littleboy1 ponders this for a few moments before replying with "soon?"

With a desperate sigh I nod as I dust the cobwebs that linger around behind the microwave and shuddering when I see a small spider (sometimes with the company of a daddy long-legs or a small bluebottle). What? I'm tidy. Most of the time.

Yesterday, since Littleboy1 seemed really down about not going to school for 2 whole days, Hubby and I decided we'd treat him to a day out at his favourite park and afterwards get him an ice cream from the van that hangs around outside the gates.

With Littleboy2 in his stroller and Littleboy1 hanging onto Hubby's hand, we stopped outside the van.

"What would you like, son?" Hubby asked him, jingling his change in his trouser pocket.

Littleboy1 stared blankly at the list and photos of the available ice creams/lollies.

Randomly, he picked a blackcurrant Ribena push-up ice lolly.

"A Ribena push-up lolly please," Hubby said, taking his money out and fingering the coins.

The man took one out of his freezers and placed it on the counter as Hubby placed the coins into his hand. The man grinned and put it away.

Hubby handed the lolly to Littleboy1 and he eagerly took the seal off, needing a little help pushing it up. He then attacked it with his mouth until it was all gone, and emerged from the lolly with a purple tongue, purple lips and juice all around his mouth.

"I'm guessing you liked that then," I said, opening the gate to the play area and pushing the pram in. Littleboy2 was sleeping soundly, so I just sat on the bench, rocking the pram back and forth.

"Yeah!" Littleboy1 said, jumping up and down.

"Good. Now, go and have a nice little play and we'll get dinner on the way home."

Hubby sat beside me as Littleboy1 raced over to the slide, clambering up like a monkey would a tree. He waved at the top and slid down on his belly quickly, laughing loudly as he went.

It made me smile, seeing him have so much fun. He then played on the climbing frame, the swings, the roundabout, and the slide again.

He then came over, asking me to tie his shoelaces for him.

"Rock Littleboy2," I told Hubby as I stood up and knelt down, a shoelace in each hand.

"Do you want a double bow?" I asked, and he nodded, acting as if he knew what the heck a double bow was.

I tied one shoe successfully, and moved onto the next. Suddenly, before I knew what was happening, I felt liquid melt through my hair and drip down the back of my neck and my forehead.

"What the hell?" I muttered, standing up after tying the other shoelaces.

Hubby burst out laughing, confirming my fears. "What the hell has happened to me?"

Littleboy1 had his hand over his mouth, and Hubby couldn't talk for laughing.

"Mummy... I was sick."

CRAP.

"On my head?" I asked, trying to be calm when really I wanted to run around the park screaming and shouting and crying.

"Yes... sorry Mummy. I am sorry."

I wasn't mad at Littleboy1, of course. I was just mad that God had to punish me for something or other by causing his sickness the minute before I got up.

"It's okay, darling, it's not your fault," I said, too scared to put my finger on my head even though it was starting to itch as the sick sunk into my scalp (don't worry, I haven't got any pictures).

Littleboy1 wiped his mouth and held my hand afterwards. "Let's go home, Mummy. You need clean."

I nodded and gave Hubby the evils as he sniggered, pushing the pram.

When we got home, cleaned Littleboy1 up and got my hair washed, rinsed, washed again, rinsed, washed a third time, rinsed, and dried, I was just too tired to move.

I just sat down on the sofa and watched The X Factor (I was too tired to change the channel, the remote was on the other sofa), continuously smelling my hair, which thankfully now smelled like tangerines.

Littleboy1 was in bed, but came downstairs and sat beside me. "Mummy."

"Yeah?"

"I didn't like today. At all."

Oh, good. Wasn't just me, then.