Let's just say that Wednesday did not begin well. The toddler was up all night with a fierce temperature. He is not a big fan of Nurofen and we had run low on Calpol. When I finally managed to get him to take some he tipped his head back, gurgled and then shot the whole lot out all over the bed and all over me. After a quick clean-up I handed him over to my partner and headed to work.
The thing about homeworking is there is not much time difference between being vomited all over and taking that first call of the morning so the switchover to professional mode has to be rather instantaneous.
Plus the toddler can smell Mummy in the house and when he's sick Daddy just doesn't cut the mustard for long. He slept for most of the day, though, and only perked up while on a Calpol high later on to sing a quick round of his favourite song. By Thursday he was right as rain and charging around looking for the Wii remote, despite having once more gummed the Wii console up with something we think is toast.
The kids have had their dad around all week so have been corralled into tidying their rooms up. He is feeling slightly smug. I know, however, that it will last all of three or four days before it looks just as messy or worse. Daughter two seems to have taken to jotting her random thoughts all over her wall. I would protest, but there is already a huge heart-shaped design on the wall made out of feathers and lollipop sticks so random jotting does not make much difference. I would even encourage it if she got the spelling right. She has something up there about Spain and Porchegal at the moment. Perhaps she has taken in a bit of the latest news on the Eurozone? People in Spain seem to be rather worried about the whole thing going belly up some time soon.
Daughter one actually asked to watch the news the other day, a programme she labels "the most boring thing on tv". I think it was mainly to sabotage her sister's viewing plans. She has been lounging around laconically in true pre-teen style, telling me she needs to reserve her energies for school. Daughter three has been emailing her grandmother, arranging clandestine sleepovers for when she returns next week. I have been counting the seconds until my mum is back, in no small part because it may get me off the sleepover hook. I have one that I am apparently obliged to attend this weekend.