For the last two days, as I have said, it has just been me and the boy doing our thang. Well actually doing his thang while I fit mine around his.
I mentioned the last time we had a day together what a simple soul he is to please, and how lovely it is to spend time with him because of that. I have been looking forward to our few days together, and he has not disappointed me.
Yesterday we went treasure hunting at an antique fair with granny and granddad in the morning. The boy loves a bit of treasure hunting, but this did bore him a little. Quite late on in proceedings he tugged my sleeve and whispered quietly in my ear: ‘Mama. Car boot sales are better for children. This is too posh.’ I agree. I have promised to take him to a car boot sale very soon. He was mollified with a bag of snacks yesterday morning as we wandered about, and munched his way steadily through the morning, going back to Granny’s for beans on toast (one of his favourite meals), while I went to the inevitable post office queue of doom.
In the afternoon, in the hope that we could find boy friendly treasure, we hit a couple of charity shops and he came away with a bottle of bubbles and a Monopoly game, much to his delight. He spent most of the rest of the afternoon roaming up and down the garden on his scooter, to which we have fitted a small box that allows him to make laser and siren sounds (the neighbours love us), blowing bubbles while the cat followed him about in rapt fascination.
We had risotto for tea, which, as regular readers will know is his absolute, all time favourite. So much a favourite that he had three huge helpings in quick succession.
Then we spent the evening playing Monopoly. It turns out that Monopoly now is just as dull as it was thirty years ago. Nothing has redeemed it. Nothing. I even had a glass of wine whilst playing but it just made me sleepy, which is fatal, as Monopoly for several hours will do that to you anyway. Thankfully, after about ninety years he got bored and we were allowed to move on to bed time stories instead, which is much more my thing.
I remember playing games of Monopoly in the summer holidays with my brother that went on for days and days. We used to hide the Monopoly board under the rug in the bedroom and just drag it out to start the next round. We eventually developed our own, highly controversial set of rules for it as time passed by.
This is what growing up in the country in the Seventies will do to you.
Take crack instead, that’s my advice. It’s probably better for you in the short term.
Monopoly took its revenge in the night, when something I ate clearly disagreed with me and I spent much of the night in a re-enactment of last week’s birthday joy. I can only think it was a dodgy prawn in the risotto, as we ate the same things as each other all day and he was as right as ninepence. I just thank my lucky stars that it was me and not him who was struck down.
This morning our plan was go to swimming. We didn’t make it. I spent the morning catching up on paperwork and making sure that my stomach wasn’t going to render me embarrassed of Leicester in the swimming pool. He spent it glued to his X Box.
By lunch time I was pretty sure I was going to be fine and we set off for the pool. When I was a child my gran taught me to swim, and she used to take me at least once a week, either to Wigston baths, near where she lived, or Aylestone baths, which is near where I live. I have no idea why we went to both. Anyway, I have not been to Aylestone baths, or Aylestone Leisure centre as it is now known, since I was about five years old.
It turns out that despite a swanky new re-design on the outside, the pool is still the same, and I am pretty sure the changing rooms are as well, mainly because when I got in there I walked into one of the cubicles, had a weird sense of deja vu, and burst into tears, much to Oscar’s consternation.
Despite this hiccup, we had a lovely time. Because we were there at lunch time, the pool was virtually empty, and as we left, after about an hour, it was just beginning to fill up. I hate swimming in crowded pools, so I made a note that lunch times are an excellent time to swim. Oscar had a great time, and I feel we will be going back quite a bit, although at £6.60 for the two of us, I shall be looking at a membership if this turns out to be the case.
After swimming we were starving, and went and had a late lunch at a cafe up the road, before buying cakes to bring home for tea.
We visited two libraries, fitted in more story telling, bought sweets, looked for treasure, wandered about in the sunshine and generally had a very fine time indeed.
All of which we achieved while he wore his green, pig onesie with great pride. He is definitely an individual when it comes to fashion.
We may have more Monopoly scheduled in this evening, if I cannot find a way to put it off.
Tomorrow his wish is to go to the park, which will be easy to fulfil. I do not know what he plans to wear. I am hoping he will surprise me.
I’m sure he will.