Not About Food

It was 2.45 and after a full day of fighting with his brother, swimming, fighting some more, going to McDonald’s * for the Transformer toy, eating a second lunch (because “the food at McDonald’s isn’t healthy” – A), fighting over the McToys, and doing two crafts, A was starting to cast around for something to do. (!)

I was clearing up the craft stuff — hoping I had enough time before he started a fight to get everything put away. I picked up a box of alphabet stampers, to put something else away behind them and, of course, the box wasn’t closed properly. I smothered a curse as the box disgorged its contents all over the floor. I was, of necessity, moving fast, so I gathered up the stampers and shoved them, higglety pigglety, into the lid of the box, setting the whole lot aside as a ‘sorting project’ with which I would try to excite one of the boys later.

Meanwhile A’s gaze had lit on G, happily playing with cars, and I swiftly said,

“Hey, how about some computer time?”

He agreed and we trochled off upstairs to set up a website for him.

Suddenly, A decided he needed to talk to his dad on the phone and then that he needed to talk to Granmo. So we called them, chatted, and I kept an ear open for the happy playing noises from downstairs that reassured me G was still alive.

As our calls finished up I passed G on the stairs, diverted him into a different room from Angus, and carried on down to put the phone away and finish tidying up.

As I put the phone in its cradle, I stopped in my tracks.

There, on the craft table, sat my box of stampers. Every little stamp was in its little slot, and the lid was neatly closed.

It was as if I had been visited by elves. Or the ghost of Gran D!

God bless the OCD streak that runs in K’s family…