Footsteps, chasing and in the pot.

1. Alec stops crying when he hears Nick's footsteps at a little before 5am. I am glad to hear them, too.

2. Rosey comes swimming with us -- she does great work chasing the runaway Alec round the changing rooms (he locks himself in one of the gents' cubicles and shouts at us to get away from his train carriage) and then around Tonbridge Castle. It is very pleasant to watch him ranging and exploring without needing to run after him.

3. I introduce Alec to reading on the loo. We run though Pirate Pete's Potty twice, and as we start a second book (one with lots of dripping) he announces that he has done "a big widdle in the pot".

New leaves, whistling and detail.

1. Bright green leaves on a hawthorn hedge.

2. As we come through the front door, the sound of Grandad whistling.

3. It dawns on me that the 'chips' Alec is complaining about are the tiny snips of chive on his potatoes. I pick both of them out and he digs in.

Pineapple, resting and relief.

1. Alec doesn't like pineapple, so I snaffle it the last pieces.

2. To lie in bed and let my mind wander.

3. A few sips of milk for a case of heartburn.

Dinosaurs at home, details and grape hyacinths.

1. While we're waiting to see the photos of Alec's afternoon at nursery he shows me two plastic dinosaurs, both long-necked herbivores. "Mummy dinosaur and baby dinosaur. Oh no, baby dinosaur fall down. Mummy dinosaur pick him up." He twines their necks and then lays them down side by side, saying "Have some dinosaur bub." I open my mouth to explain the crucial difference between mammals and reptiles, and then I shut my mouth.

3. I love the little details that she picks out about Alec's afternoon: "I asked him about his holiday and he said 'Steam train!'" and "I was painting some letters for our springtime display and he came over and asked to help."

3. Among the artwork on the wall are some very effective grape hyacinths -- a long stroke of green paint and then little blue fingerprints for the petals.

Train, in the garden and saying no.

1. I can hear Alec and Godfather Timothy in the front room playing with Alec's Bumpity Train (it's his scooter with his toddling cart full of bricks tied to the back as a tender full of coal). Alec is telling Tim to get into the carriage (the two little chairs) and Tim is saying that he is too big. I was confronted by the same request yesterday.

2. There is suddenly enough mint in the garden that I can pick some for the potatoes. Chives, too.

3. "They didn't do that blowing in your eye thing did they? I hate that more than anything," says a horrified Nick when I tell him about my eye test (they'd used a puffing thing to test the pressure of the fluid in my eyeballs). He continues anxiously, "I thought they'd got a new machine so they didn't have to do that any more."
I say "Next time just say no. You don't have to let them do anything you don't want."

Our time, cleaning out the cupboard and cuddles.

1. We wake up and have a cuddle -- and no-one tells us: "It not kissing time, it bre'fas' time. Put your glasses on and go downstairs."

2. Our bedroom cupboard (fondly known as Narnia because it goes back far further than it should) is a mess and has been a mess for a long time. There is no floor space. The rails are clogged with empty hangers and out-of-season clothes. If you go in for bed linen towels fall on your head. The Christmas decorations are always in front of the thing you want. There's an unbagged duvet somewhere on the floor, and I know the iron is in there... but I haven't seen it for months. I pull everything out, then dust and vacuum. I cull a few things that have been kept I know not why and bag a few things up that shouldn't be loose. Then I put everything left back, this time in a rational way. I end up with floor space and an empty shelf. I could not have been more pleased if Aslan had padded out with a couple of fauns riding on his back.

3. My mother brings Alec back after lunch. For the rest of the day, whatever we're doing, he keeps giving me spontaneous cuddles. I've missed him too.

New babies, watching for Granny and a walk in the evening.

1. There are several tiny babies at playgroup this morning. They are lolling on people's shoulders and looking woozily around. I suddenly feel a satisfying longing for my own tiny person: up until now I've felt only apprehension when I think beyond the birth.

2. Granny rings to say she is just leaving. Alec climbs up on the arm of the sofa so he can watch for her -- I do try to explain that she'll be about half an hour, but he doesn't seem to care. She's taking him away with her for the night to give Nick and me a break.

3. We go out for tapas and when we've finished, Nick says "I want to go for a walk and show you off." We only go a little way, though: we're looking forward to having the big bed all to ourselves.