Despite the sun having disappeared, overexerted by all its bank holiday shining and the rain misting everyone with a miserable film of wetness, O continued this morning to feel in the holiday spirit. Waking him from his deep sleep he bounced up with a giggle.
“Morning!” I said brightly as I pulled open the blind to be greeted by the contrarily soggy day. “What would you like for breakfast today, poppet?”
“Ice cream!” came the reply.
Needless to say ice cream wasn’t served (…though I can sometimes get away with serving a bowl of yoghurt masquerading as the cold stuff so could perhaps have faked it) and egg it was but without, having risen earlier than usual today, our usual breakfast companion of P. Back in his highchair and surrounded once again by DIY paraphernalia scattered over the table, P had popped immediately back into O’s memory as if he hadn’t left and a knock at the door, the postman, was attributed immediately by O to his arrival. In fact, even the long departed C is still fresh in O’s mind despite our week of sunny adventuring where both builders, whose names are ordinarily uttered at five minute intervals, were instantly forgotten by a besotted (in the case of P) and intrigued (in the case of C) O. Our return has reverted him back to form, however, much to S’s disgust. On entering the house on Saturday evening O took one look at the developments in the hallway and, without breaking his stride en route to his sorely missed red scooter, pointed dismissively at the walls and announced “C”.
“C didn’t do it, I blimmin did!” retorted an offended S.
Later that day he was further insulted.
“Its telling” he said exasperated after a couple of ineffective attempts at correction “that he points at the drill and says C and then at the washing machine and says Daddy.”
S then took it upon himself to try, somewhat fruitlessly, to reeducate his son over the weekend as to the true owner of our tools.
P didn’t appear bearing his chocolate gifts today, however, and knowing that we would miss each other I set about writing a note listing a few bits and bobs I wanted seeing to….the holes in the ceiling cut out for the spots looking larger than than the lights that fill them, a tiled end to the sink wall and a second coat of sealant on the slate to help prevent water staining. Leaving the note by the kettle where it was sure to be found, I gathered O, his school bag and his preferred coat…today he expressed a developing opinion on fashion and refused to wear his normal one insisting instead that he wear one which looked decidedly short around his puffy wrists…and we headed out of the door and into the rain.
Shortly after the drop off, following a fishing about for my phone at the bus stop, I discovered missed calls from both P and S.
“Hi M, sorry to ring so early, can you call me back?” asked P.
I called S, imagining his missed call was in some way related.
“Has P been in touch with you?” I asked.
“No…K has” he replied. “P is locked out. K is on his way.”
I called P.
“I thought you would be in” he said damply from our doorstep. “I left before K on Friday so he has keys. But don’t you worry, he is on his way. lll be fine”
“I’m sorry.” I apologised needlessly for their organisational mishap “I left you a note though so when you do get in, if there’s any problems or questions, do give me a call back and we can sort it.”
“Yeah, no problem M. Don’t you worry.”
And with that I went to work and left them to it.
On my way home at the end of the day, I called S.
“They’ve done nothing that I can see” he said despairingly. “Other than fit the toilet flush.”
“Is the bath not in?” I asked horrified
“The bath is still on the landing”
The news is bad on a number of counts. The first being a simply selfish one…that I’m desperate for a long bubbly soak with a magazine (latest LivingEtc being reserved specifically for the occasion) and a glass of wine. The second is that O is also missing out on his nightly bath and instead either S or I have to strip down and shower with him, the thermostat set too high really for his little slippery body so the experience is accompanied by little cries of “Hot. Hot” as warm water is poured over his hair with a jug (the hand spray also not yet attached.) Secondly…..the bath is currently in front of the fireplace which I’m itching to photograph for my Ebay shop prior to its Grand Opening.
So perhaps my theory that more work gets done when I’m not here is not holding true after all…