'Does my Bruv look big in this?'
Of our three children, Child 2, the six year-old boy, is the most caring, the most helpful, the most sensitive. He is also the most exasperating. He can be the biggest pain in the backside since red-hot pokers were invented. His mood swings make PMS look like Happy-Clappiness Syndrome (can’t think where he gets it from!) And these swings have a roundabout way of Completely Ruining the Day.
That’s what happened on Saturday. We all ventured out to the local park – myself, the Successful-But-Off-Duty Other Half, my nine-year-old stepdaughter, Child 2 and the three year-old. Scooters and a football, a backpack filled with the farmers’ market bread, cheese and russets. The epitome of the Perfectly Pleasant English Family On A Gorgeous English Spring Day.
And then the clouds came in. Metaphorically. I’m talking metaphorically.
'If I can't keep it to myself I'm taking it home'
Child 2 wouldn’t share his football. Child 2 had a tantrum when his sister caught him in a game of tag. Child 2 wanted the apple that Child 3 was eating. Child 2 decided that his Favourite Food In The World – chocolate ice cream – was now a stinking pile of dog you-know-what.
Each time, his mother had told him to behave, chill out, stop spoiling things. I tried to ignore it. But when he ignored his mother, it was time for Yours Truly to have a quiet but forceful word. And for a milli-second, he calmed down, lightened up. The sun was out again. Continue reading