Thursday, January 10, 2013

Book parcels, tantrum and no more mummy.

1. There's a knock at the door (Alec lets out a joyful, hopeful cry of "GRANNY!"). It's the postman. He puts two parcels, each containing a book, into my hands.

2. To face down a tantrum (down on the floor so I can look Alec in the eye and say I am genuinely sorry that we can't right this minute watch any train films on YouTube).

3. Alec is eating his supper very.... very.... slowly. I have finished mine and am sorting laundry while watching a conversation on Facebook (rude). I go back to the table and make some small talk about the train (pieces of apple) he is crashing into an Ocado van (bread crust). He says: "Go way Mummy do pooter work."
"But I-"
"No more Mummy."
I retire to the far end of the table with this month's poetry book.

Shower, sparrow and night before bin day.

1. The rain comes down in rushing spate, drowning downpipes and running in fans over the asphalt. Next time I look up, the sun is out, water...