Pure euphoria at the thought of no school quickly turns to a game of hide and seek which ends in all three of us screeching at each other.
Let’s go for a scoot! I can do a few jobs on the way!
It starts to rain.
My scarf is making me itch.
William wants to spend his pocket money on something I’ve already bought him for Christmas.
Alex is refusing to scoot so I’m having to drag him along.
We go to the library. It’s bliss. Then W gets upset because he doesn’t understand cubic metres.
We scoot home for lunch.
Gorgeous delightful husband, the Wig Wearer, comes back from a long day in court and we pack a bag for the Panto.
I am beside myself with excitement. I bloody love the panto.
We Park and Ride it in and town is teeming and W keeps meandering in to prams and A keeps asking to play on his iPad.
W also has a brief moment of being six going on 13 and rolling his eyes and saying the panto is rubbish
But when the curtain’s up, they’re both transfixed. Alex is roaring, booing, hissing, jiggling and saying loud inappropriate things. William claps along obediently but is involved and enjoying it despite himself, later declaring ‘the postman’ is his favourite character. There is no postman.
On the bus home, we sit up top and count Christmas trees.
After a quick supper/bed/babysitter turnaround we are out for the night celebrating our friend’s 40th. Drinks. Chat. Rosy cheeks. Emotional moments.
Home by midnight to find Alex bolt up right on the sofa next to the babysitter looking very pleased with himself: ‘I awake and downstairs Mummy!’