Sunday, September 09, 2012

Sleeping alone, grubby toddler and first fruits.

1. It's taking a while to get Alec off to sleep at nap time. I really need to go down and put the lunch on, but I'm anticipating a noisy protest. "I'll be back in three minutes," I tell him. I put the chicken in. No sound from upstairs. I scrub some potatoes, my ears pricked for howls of rage. Then I go back up -- to find him sprawled asleep on a pile of books.

2. I bring Alec home from our afternoon walk. His hands are sticky (and there are handprints on my cream skirt). His face is dusty. There is an apple core wrapped in a disintegrating tissue in my bag. His shorts have a grey patch on the bottom and the hems are black. He looks like a proper little boy, and I feel like a proper mother.

3. To pick my first tomatoes.