Friday 16th September 2016
For the fourth morning straight, Erroll wakes naturally at 6am and heads to the gym, leaving Kingsley and I in the deepest of sleep cycles, passed out in bed. We eventually wake -Kingsley before me – but the boy leaves me sleeping (THANK YOU) and goes out to meet his Báh-Báh at the front door as he comes home from his workout. So by 9:35am our domestic scene is as follows: father and son drawing/drinking milk in the loungeroom, and me oblivious to their growling bellies.
By 10:30am I am wide awake thanks to the stinker freshly brewed in Kingsley’s nappy. (He likes to confess the load, up close, near my head while I am faceplanting the pillow, then promptly dispose of it, and I am just the girl to help him).
Our breakfasts and lunches melt into each other these lazy days Erroll is not flying: fried eggs, vegemite toast, nutribullet of some sort, yoghurt, bananas, apples. Hours of nibbles over Peppa Pig, Zac & Quack, Charlie & Lola. Then we all of a sudden find ourselves on the couch together with bellies full, exercise done, washing on the line, nap on the way and simply happy to be deep in nothing but family matters…