Three Beautiful Things

1. I am admiring a tiny railway layout based on a Southern States shunting yard, all peeling paint, tattered posters and rusting metalwork. "It's scratch built," says the owner proudly. "Apart from that yellow building." Then he hands the controls to Alec. "Have a go. Press that red button." Alec does, and the rusted little diesel moves jerkily forward and stops. "Press it again, Alec." The look on my little boy's face as the train stops and starts its way along the track is worth double the entrance fee. 2. There is a tinplate layout which I like very much. "That's from 1955," says the exhibitor about his station. "And that's from before the First World War. German." I am just marvelling at the very British advertisements that plaster the tinplate walls when a Thomas train comes racing past, whirring frantically. "It's clockwork," says the exhibitor. "So's this." He picks up a ...

1. Alec's key person hands me a folder of his art. She has drawn farm animals all over it in a copper-coloured marker. I think Alec will enjoy looking at it later. And I know Nick will enjoy the contents, so I put it out in the sitting room so that he will see it as soon as he comes in. 2. "Is this theatre of food?" asks Nick as I slap a couple of gleaming silver and grey striped mackerel fillets into the pan. They have been marinating all afternoon in wasabi and ginger and soy . 3. I picked up a menu for the new sushi place yesterday, and after supper, I remember that I wanted to show Nick. Even though we've just eaten, we read down the descriptions and, when we discover that they'll deliver, we plan a future supper.

1. Alec always radiates heat -- he gets that from Nick. In the cold dark hour before dawn, he wriggles in close, pressing his lovely hot back to me. 1a. Alec opens one of his books and shows me a picture that he insists is like a girl at his nursery; and another that looks like his favourite practitioner. 2. Alec and Baby Loey play peep-o around the water jug at lunch. In between peeps, Baby Loey stuffs fat fistfuls of rice into her mouth. 3. When I come home from dropping Alec at nursery and running my errands, I am grateful all over again for Katie's help in clearing up the rice blizzard left behind after lunch.

1. I give Alec some biscuit cutters to play with. Instead of trying to make biscuits, though, he presses them carefully into a sheet of playdough to make repeating designs. 2. To spend a rainy afternoon in Alec's favourite cafe, with good cake and sympathetic company.* 3. He comes off the bub, rolls over on to his back, murmurs: "Mummy Daddy Alec" and then he's asleep. *Manna on the High Street -- he can't walk past without saying in a hopeful voice: "Bic-bic?"

1. That cup of tea that the excellent women give you when you arrive at a toddler group. That cup of tea that I don't put down because it seems like such a liability in a room full of small anatomies hurtling about at knee height. That cup of tea I drink while it's still hot because Alec doesn't want my attention right now. 2. As we leave the house, it starts to rain heavily. But we don't care: Alec is under the rain covers and I'm going to change when we get home. As I puff up the first hill in the park, the sun comes out and shines up the last of the shower. 3. I love all the sharp crisp apples that are only worth eating in the autumn. They vanish from our fruit bowl like snow -- I eat them while I'm working, without really thinking about it. Often there isn't even a core left, and I have no idea how many there were to start with.

I got some news today that makes me want to share a link to a suicide awareness organisation like Safe Kent . If you are struggling with suicidal thoughts, in the UK you can speak to The Samaritans  and globally, Befrienders Worldwide . I know some of you walk in dark places: please don't make your journey alone. 1. During our Skype conversation, Auntarctica spots the yellow freesias in the background. "Ohh, look at those! Are they daffodils?" It occurs to me that she might not have seen flowers for quite some time. 2. I feel mean for encouraging Alec to monkey along the side of the swimming pool by moving the purple ball that he wants just out of his reach. Hand over hand he goes and my slippery boy gets the ball before I can grab it. Instead of chewing on it, he rolls it away and sets off after it. 3. When Alec hears my mother's voice he makes such a delighted sound. For a few minutes he is so overwhelmed with joy that all he can do is point to things and name...

1a. I come down and find Nick and Alec down on the floor drawing on a sheet of newspaper. 1. The little girl at the other table waves at Alec, and as soon as she is allowed down, she comes over to see him. "Say hallo, and come straight back," her mother tells her. Alec hides his face, but warms up when she returns with a toy train. She is nine months old, and French. Her aunts egg her on: "Get his number, get his number." 2. I take Alec in the pushchair with me for my first run: I've got a lot to do today, and it just seems efficient. He laughs at the running bits, and shouts: "Quickly, quickly!", which is encouraging. It's not as shymaking as I though it would be: I think because I'm concentrating on Alec, rather than on myself. 3. Nick and Alec watch the grill intently, with Alec standing on one of his little chairs. We are having cheese on toast for supper. We cut thin crustless fingers for Alec to nibble. He eats them all, except the ...