Rabbits...

One of those days: too much to do, not enough time, small child needs haircut and left me one of his "babies" (cuddly rabbit, he's a rabbit-kinda-kid) to talk to on my desk this morning. Does that mean he thinks he doesn't see enough of me? Last night, when we finished reading the Hungry Caterpillar, he said "Mummy, when I come out of my cocoon, will I turn into a lovely little rabbit?"

Poetry, of sorts...

Small child had some 12-hour bug this morning - which thankfully has worn off, and he bouncing around again - but he threw up twice. Or, as he described it, "I don't want to be all buttery spluttery all over the kitchen floor again."

I know, I'm biased, but I feel he is very poetic (as well as talking lots of bo**ocks). Yesterday he told me a whole story about how the remainder of his chicken pox spots (he's got a lot in his hair) are sending medicine to his brain to look after him. I went to pick him up from a playdate on Friday, and the mother said "I didn't know you had another one, Andy, who's four." And I said, "I don't, that's Andy from Toy Story who lives with us, but is not, er, real. As I said, patent bo**ocks :)

Pox day three...

The pox day three - we are all completely wrecked, but I think we've turned a corner. He actually went to bed around 8pm, and is still asleep, which is a record since Monday. Here's hoping we have a good night.

And also, I am very moved by all the nice people who have messaged/texted/called with advice and real offers of help and drugs. Thank you. And to Ruth - he was totally bowled over by the Toy Story get-well-soon cupcakes - you are our fairybakemother:)

When this started on Monday, and J was basically fine but had spots, and was wittily walking around the house telling tales of what "his chicken pox" wanted to do (which was, of course, largely Toy Story related) I was thinking "this chicken pox lark, what a breeze." And when people said "have a stiff drink" or "see you on the other side", I didn't really get it. Like everything, really, that you haven't experienced yourself.

But boy, do I get it now. And I *really* appreciate by the warmth and support. And also, I'm really tired.

Pox in the house

Small child has chicken pox (yesterday was day one of spots). People tell me that the infection makes you just want to sleep, and with the piriton thrown in, rather drowsy. Don't know if we have a rare strain (or perhaps a rare kid) but he has been chatting solidly - and very loudly - since 7pm. A sort of live-stream-of-consciousness that encompasses Toy Story, chicken pox, snow and his current favourite today (Froggy Frieze). "J, it's really time to sleep now," I say. "Mummy, the chicken pox is making me awake. Hello, chicken pox, I need some more medicine". I have bribed him with "shabbat treat breakfast" aka cocopops. "Chock'n' roll cocopops, mummy?" he asks as turns over and temporarily fakes sleep. It's gonna be a long, long night....

Chicken pox day two: we have moved to New York time: we're lethargic and basically sleep all morning, then at 2pm we're bouncing of the walls till 5am. J tells me his chicken pox are hungry and he wants more medicine. I've been up all night and feel appalling. We've got CBeebies on a loop, with Toy Story reserved for the afternoon.

It's all about strategy...

Small child has spent a lot of time in the last week discussing his "Batpole strategy", which consists of hanging an oversized kids measuring tape from the first floor landing, stacking up loads of other toys ("for the strategy") at the base, and then trying to get something to reach it from the hall. "I am going up to get the batpole ready for some more strategy, to make the batpole working, we're using plastic balls and strategy space rockets."

Last week, we collected everything yellow in the house for the Gold Party. I think the Gold Party has crossed over with the Batpole Strategy, because everytime I try and put something (yellow) away, it returns to the Gold Party basket, "for the strategy". I think he might be a management consultant (as he appears to talk b*****).