Mietta has been poorly for the last five days. She started to come down with something while we were in San Jose (California) and has had a temperature, been sleepy and irritable (not at all like her), with very little appetite. Poor darling. We arrived home very early Sunday morning, so this morning was the first opportunity to take Mietta to the doctors. Paul took the boys to the park while I went to the surgery.
As I came home and parked the car, I saw the boys on their way home from the park - obviously returning from the local supermarket. Nic announced that they had bought grape popsicles. I raised my eyebrow and Paul explained that these were a treat for Nic, who had injured himself by doing a (poor) Superman imitation and flying off the swing at its highest arc. Paul was amazed that Nic had not broken anything on impact with the ground, and had made the popsicle promise as a means of placating a tearful swing-victim.
Now, all mothers out there would immediately realise the error in this promise. In fact it took only a minute for Luc to fall over his feet in the alley and demand a popsicle treatment (only he wanted coconut).
I was folding washing in the laundry after the boys had gone to bed this evening. Nic, not wishing to stay in bed, asked for a glass of water. I gave him some water. A few moments later he returned, complaining about a sore back. My immediate thought was that he had a toy in his bed and had laid on it. No. His back was sore. He was uncomfortable. I started with the sympathies when his face brightened and he said “I’ll go and get a popsicle...” ahhhhhh!
Photo: Kids hanging out in downtown San Jose
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