My stomach is rumbling a bit today. I cooked Carole dinner last night, but due to my newly sensitive tooth I decided not to eat my (experimental Indian dish) until later.
However, later never came....
I took Sima for a jaunt to the local shop to buy a pint of milk while Carole enjoyed her spicy meal, only to return to find the pan lying empty. "Where's Goldilocks?" I wondered inwardly before spotting a rather sheepish looking Carole grinning on the telephone. "It was a mouse" she scribbled on a bit of paper beside me.
An angry sulk later, with a series of disbelieving apologies from Carole ("I'm so sorry, I thought you'd already eaten!") I settled down with a yogurt and shortbread and read teletext (do you get this in America and Australia?) while Carole settled down outside with a healthy cup of green tea and a contradictorily unhealthy cigarette.
The evening had initially started earlier with much less incident. I picked Luca up from nursery, and immediately demanded details of his trip to the Art Gallery. "Did you have fun at the art gallery?" I queried. "Yes" came the rather limited reply. Probing further I asked "What did you do at the art gallery?". "Played" came the reply.
I later found they'd been doing some drawing and colouring (I don't think he's going to the next Van Gogh), and that he'd seen the library too. "I saw library" he smiled, "We didn't go in though" he continued with a sad look creeping across his pudgy face.
He's entering another affectionate faze again, and has taken to wrapping himself around my leg if I attempt to leave the room he's currently residing in. "No Dad, you stay with Luca" he insists, with as much authority in his voice as he can muster.
We received a nice phone call last night too - I've been asked to be Godfather (the literal kind, not the podgy Marlon Brando variety) to Harry, Donald and Luisa's firstborn. The christening is on the 21st of this month, and apparently I have to carry the child into the church for the ceremony.
What's the odds I trip?
Today has been a little less gratifying however. We woke this morning with Carole complaining she felt ill. Apparently she'd been coughing all night. "Did you not hear me, I haven't slept, I've been coughing since I came to bed!". "Nope" I replied honestly. Considering I slept through the first year of Luca's life as he cried and spluttered his way through almost every night then I'm pretty certain I'm capable of sleeping through anything.
I came home from my morning dog walk ("Isis, come here. Isis, come here. ISIS COME HERE. ISIS! You little bu**er, come here now!") to find a very sad looking scene. Luca had just woken so was still half asleep and needed a cuddle. His Mummy was ill and needed a cuddle. Both were curled up together in the corner of his bed. "Time to get up" I whispered, and two sets of bloodshot red eyes glowered at me.
Due to an important meeting Carole (unbeknownst to me) got ready and went to work not long after Luca and I left. I haven't heard from her since this morning so I assume she went straight home after it or has fallen asleep in the corner and will only be discovered by the councils cleaner later this evening.
This weekend? Quiet for once thankfully, although Carole is out to lunch with the girls tomorrow. I'd imagine, however, that on this occasion the lunch will be alcohol free.
Luca and I? We'll hit the swimming pool with his new armbands and I'll keep him swimming until he can swim no more - there's a big game on TV at lunchtime (Liverpool v Everton) so I'd like him asleep in time for kick off........
**Useless fact of the day - Cigarette smokers aged 35, men or women, are twice as likely (when compared with non-smokers) to die before they reach the age of 65**
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