Our house guests have left. After a relaxing and quiet 5 days, Lila and Joey have returned to their other house. The one where their parents generally live when they’re not holidaying around the globe. And when I say ‘relaxing and quiet’, I mean… I mean… I mean, imagine you live in Eastern Ukraine and Putin decides to systematically destroy your living space, your peace of mind, your sleep patterns and everything else you hold holy. Don’t get me wrong, I loved having them here and re-writing their rule book (which neither can read, so no big loss there) but the peace that followed their departure this afternoon was physically tangible.

Every grandparent thinks their own grandchildren to be ‘unique’, ‘brilliant’, ‘exceptionally bright’, ‘charming’, ‘delightful’, etc etc until the listener rudely falls asleep. But they only think that because they haven’t met MY grandchildren. If they had they would describe their own as miserable dullards with diminished mental capacity and all the charm of Tom Tugendhat. And I say that with all impartiality.

Then Joey ‘took ill’. Not his fault, poor babe, but Saturday night he was fine, Sunday morning he simply wasn’t. Doing the sums, at precisely the time his parents took off, his temperature rose upwards with them. No other symptoms, just burning hot, listless and devoid of the usual energy and mania. When Joey doesn’t want to water the garden with the hose, you know there’s issues.

Lila was absolutely fine. Her usual super-enthusiastic, rule-the-roost, 320-words a minute delightful loveliness. Until bedtime. When she turns into that girl from The Exorcist whose head rotated 360 degrees, swore like… most of my friends and vomited green slime over the priest. Something changes in her, something profound. But only EVERY SINGLE NIGHT!!!!, so its no big deal.

Then yesterday morning, after a logistically nightmarish week when Joey couldn’t attend nursery, even though 12 kids there have the same thing, he woke up noticeably nothing like as hot, more chatty, more energy, almost back to his old self. Just in time for his parents to fly home and reap the rewards. He asked me if mummy was coming over to pick him up. ‘Awwww, I thought, he misses his mum, sweet’. Because he wants her to bring his present with her so he can carry it home. Cynical? Mercenary? No, but a deal’s a deal. You go on holiday, I GET A PRESENT. Or don’t bother coming for me.

NOOOOOOO…

Happy Friday

A xxxx