Monday, 9 February 2009



I could have been gadding importantly around very inspiring youth participation projects in Manchester's most enviable museums and galleries. Sam was exceptionally chirpy too, despite the soufflé and custard around the eyes.

It's one of the those pesky ailments. Even toddlers aren't bothered - this one doesn't mind gunk, just bits and bumps - but there's still a 10-mile biohazard exclusion zone around any form of childcare.

Crap weather.

And so too much time, frankly, has been spent contriving little inukshuks from the piles of damp cotton wool that rise inexorably from the arms of the sofa. We went planned to see the nurse (but she despatched us, fully prescribed, with a telephonic turn-of-phrase), we popped to Morrisons, we played trains, we read, we drew, we bartered and bantered.

We wiped again and again, outwards and gently.

About halfway through the afternoon I was prodding a lapsang souchong in the kitchen, and thinking too little of it (maybe). Sam, cheek to the floor, chuffed and clattered a chain of tiny cabooses to their familiar, fluffy fates beneath the armchair.

Semi-rhythmically, I was mumbling and remumbling some of my favourite lines as I do, rarely. The gooey-eyed guv'nor leapt to his feet and proclaimed joyfully at the top of his voice:

"You were being a train or a river!"

Thus compelled, we immediately stomped about to a tinny version of The Night Mail and then progressed - with ritual success - to Where the Wild Things Are.

A marvellous afternoon. A total balalaika show, in fact!

1 comment:

Shane said...

Eye crust - nice. Am reminded of the hilarity that our boy experienced one bath-time, as I sought to help him clear his nose, but ended up covered in his snot. His doubled-up laughing-so-hard-that-it-hurts is about the most pleasing thing that I've ever experienced. His mum - listening from another room - was gladdened of heart, too. A very good memory. Ta.