Cough
Boy: Cough-cough-cough, cough-cough, COUGH! COOUUGGGHHHH!! Splutter-cough-splutter. Cough.
Mama, crouching over him in concern: GOODNESS ME! Your poor thing. Are you ok?
Boy, pained and woeful expression: Noooo!
Mama: No? What can I do to help?
Boy: Just pat my back when I cough and say 'Oh dear.'
!!
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Little Brother has just pulled off a Houdini style escape from the high-chair, despite the fact that he was tightly and properly strapped in. The straps are still closed. I caught him teetering on the edge of the food tray, poised to plunge towards certain head injury as soon as the plastic clips gave way. He must have grown considerably in the last week because for the first time yesterday there was a strange correlation between his proximity to the kitchen and the sudden pull of gravity on items that were safely positioned out of reach on the kitchen worktop. First he pulled off an open tin of tuna, pouring oily tuna fish juice all over himself and the kitchen floor, then he sent a packet of breakfast cereal crashing to the floor. I am still finding chocolate moons all over the place. He can only be days away from pelting through the kitchen and under the breakfast bar before he realises he's too tall to get away with that anymore. Big Brother was MOST distressed the first time that happened to him.
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Right. We lit the fire at 4 o'clock this afternoon and have been eating chocolate mini eggs and reading stories ever since. Time to put pyjamas on and continue the cosiness.
