Kerrie and I journeyed back in time last weekend. To be precise, we travelled back about two years, to a time pre-Louie.
How we’d long since forgotten what that was like.
The little man spent a couple of days with his auntie, uncle and cousins. It was his first night away from us both and his first official sleepover.
He was only two miles down the road, but we were still a little tentative about spending a night without our little, hyperactive, remote control-obsessed livewire.
We knew he was in safe hands though. My sister and brother-in-law have plenty of experience in the parenting business.
They have two of their own, both of whom are nearly in double figures.
The hesitancy we felt was more an odd feeling of not having the little tearaway within a few reassuring feet of us, constantly pestering us for food, as is usually the case. This lad can certainly eat!
It was equally strange not being able to hear him screaming in frustration while trying to squeeze a toilet roll into a shoe.
That happens more often than you might imagine.
The silence in his absence was strangely deafening.
However, the thought of being able to go out for an evening again, have dinner, catch a film, watch normal television, sleep in as late as we wanted and generally be adults, was more than a little appealing.
Of course, none of that actually happened though, but at least the thought was there.
With time on our hands and only two dogs to care for, we crazily decided to spend the weekend making the garden a little more child-friendly.
In fairness, we did successfully achieve our aim and we wouldn’t have managed it nearly as rapidly with number one in tow, particularly when he insists on tying his ankles together with the hosepipe.
I guess the cinema and a meal out will have to wait for another day.
Our lie-ins are now a thing of the past anyway, whether he’s home or not. My body clock tends to wake at 6.30 every morning these days.
And I’ve become that accustomed to CBeebies that I don’t feel I’m quite mature enough for regular grown-up telly anymore.
All in all, our time in the garden was well spent and Louie can now safely play out the back.
In hindsight though, five trips to The Range in one day was a little excessive.
THUMB WAS MORE THAN A MATCH FOR WOODIE
Louie’s introduction to the world of garden critters didn’t go entirely according to plan last week.
The boy’s been spending almost every waking second in the garden recently.
Sometimes he’s so desperate to get out there, he’ll start trying to put on his own shoes.
He’ll then attempt to pull our fingers from their sockets as he marches us to the back door.
Anyway, I happened to glance over at him on one of his recent ventures into the garden, just in time to witness him greeting a rather large woodlouse.
The only problem was that he seemed intent on allowing it a close-up inspection of the inside of his mouth.
I pulled his hand away just in time.
He then carefully laid it on its back and watched as it briefly flailed its multiple feet in the air before rolling back over.
Unfortunately he then patted it a little too forcefully.
Sadly my cries of, ‘no, no, gentle with it’, were futile.
The little man’s thumb was more than a match for it and life was extinguished fairly quickly.
We did give little Woodie a fitting burial in the flowerbed though.