The boy is poorly.
He was full of stomach aches and rashes yesterday afternoon when he got home from school. I did think the rashes might be scarlet fever. It is going around at the moment and is very fashionable in the under tens. Luckily it just seems to be an under the weather rash. My boy is very sensitive, like a new born chick, as Tallulah used to say, and will pounce on any excuse to produce a tremendous, worrying rash, which inevitably turns out to be viral.
In the meantime, his face has gone the colour of an old paper bag, and his freckles stand out like stars in the darkness. When he straggled over to me yesterday afternoon at granny’s house and admitted he was not feeling quite the thing, I suggested he might not want to go swimming feeling as he did.
This is a good test. If he is only spoofing he will swear up and down he is fine, and fall headfirst into the pool. If he is not fine there will be hesitation or outright refusal to go.
He looked at me with huge, bush baby eyes and said: ‘But I love swimming…’in a wobbly voice.
I pointed out that missing a lesson does not mean you are not allowed to go swimming ever again. He said: ‘Let’s go home.’
So we did.
He spent the evening forlornly wrapped in a blanket watching films and trotting to the toilet. Occasionally he would remember to whisper in pathetic tones how hungry he was. At one point we tried a small something of a snackerel,and he then had to disappear to the toilet.
Not a good thing.
I have kept him away from school today. He slept in until eleven and then staggered downstairs, bleary of eye. He did not want breakfast, which for the true child of my heart and stomach is not a good sign.
He has just, in the last five minutes come to me demanding sustenance. I have warily acquiesced. We shall see what happens now.
By now he is so hungry he would consider eating anything. He was fully prepared for a parental rebuff, and when I gave in he said: ‘Oh, I do love you mama!’ in a pathetically grateful tone.
In the meantime I have had a surprisingly peaceful morning. I have caught up with my reading, done a little light prodding about on EBay and eaten a lot of biscuits.
Derek is enjoying the fact that we are home. I have opened the French windows and she has spent an enjoyable few hours galloping in and out of the house, trying to catch as many bees as a total uselessness at hunting and extremely dyspraxic paws will allow.
In a week that was shaping up to be frantic, it is a wonderful oases of calm, despite the fact that someone has to suffer for it. Lucky for him he enjoys a bit of light moaning and illness, and seems quite contented now that food has passed his lips.
I am just praying it stays past his lips long enough for us not to have to re-enact Holby City at a later date.