Wednesday 12th July 2017
I’m an extremely lazy parent today. The ipad is on and Kingsley is watching reruns of his favourite episodes of Zack & Quack while I feed him continuously for hours on end. On the bed no less. Its easy to control his food intake when he’s glued to the Greek cartoons. Plus I receive no resistance. This morning he enjoys an apple, a banana, two slices buttery toast, two Babybel cheeses, a fried egg. Lunch is cashews and a glass of milk.
Then with little success in attempts to play games indoors we head to the pool. Here, due to extreme dive-bombing, he inhales far too much poolwater, gags afew times, and looks awfully nauseous. A lungfull of water doesn’t stop his pursuit to swim distances unaided and he manages to swim dog paddle 10 meters by himself.
By 5pm we’re dressed for James’ birthday party. Its the first time Kingsley sees Ruth in a month. She is shy; he is bullish. She likes her pressies (boxes of biscuits); he wants her toys. Their hitting /yelling /playing /jumping relationship continues while us parents watch with chilled glasses of sav blanc in our hands till Kingsley stands up, looks me square in the eyes, and says ‘I feel sick Mummà…’ then vomits all over the indoor picnic rug.
Kids are changed, the rug is whisked away by the family helper (bless you, Miss May) and the party continues. But Kingsley’s not well; he rejects a slice of James’ birthday cake (though blew out the candles) and even said ‘no’ to his all time favourite source of calories: vanilla icecream. Time to go home and vomit there too. Two more times, may I add…