Freedom…

We had another dose of the Sutton Sleaths and the children today, much to our delight. Danielle was feeling much better after her day of rest yesterday, so the house-hunting was on. A morning video-call confirmed it: “Could you look after the children for an hour or so while we go and look at a house, please?” Of course we could.

Not sure Grandpa had quite got over his exertions yesterday, but he was game. Thomas, on the other hand, wasn’t quite so game. He was happy enough in Daddy’s arms, but the slightest suggestion that Grandma or Grandpa might be taking over any minute now, resulted in a fair amount of wailing.

Danielle plopped him into his high chair and offered him lunch. He fiddled with the sandwiches a bit and the strawberries, but as soon as I offered him anything, he recognised the ploy and started wailing again. Danielle ducked out of the kitchen. More wailing.

“Go on, you go,” I said to the Sutton Sleaths Senior, “So that, when I pick him up, he won’t see you.” Michael and Danielle shot off out of the front door, whereupon I picked Thomas up, still wailing, and took him into the lounge where William was very happily playing with Grandpa.

I sat down with Thomas on my lap and offered the lunch. Wailing stopped. Peace was restored. Food was ingested. Interest in the surroundings and the music being played was shown. And that was the end of any wailing at all, all afternoon. Bliss.

This behaviour, of course, was in complete contrast to William, who had thrown himself into my arms the minute he saw me this morning, and immediately started planning his playtime at our house.

Oh, lockdown!! What did you do? You broke my heart, that’s what you did.

Anyway, we had a wondrous time with the children – Grandpa kept up with William and I kept up with Thomas. There was a lovely moment though, when William was after a robot he knew we had somewhere among the toys upstairs.

“Come on, Grandma, let’s go and find the robot.” OK……. William set off, up the stairs, undoing the stairgate on the way (all the catches on the bloomin’ thing btw) and Thomas, of course, followed. We climbed the stairs together, Thomas as swift as you like, and then, on arriving in the right room for finding said robot, William hummed and hawed among the various boxes, then said, “This is the one!” and sure enough, there it was.

“Let’s take the whole box with us Grandma, shall we?” William said. And it wasn’t a question….. He gathered the robot, I hugged the box, and we both shepherded Thomas back down the stairs. But, do you know what? Thomas really didn’t need sheepherding, he was on it. And I loved the companionship the three of us had during those moments. Lush.

Thomas and I were out in the garden, having a wander round, playing on the swing and playing in the sandpit when, all of a sudden, Thomas heard Daddy’s dulcet tones in the house – they were back. He looked up at me, wide-eyed. “Daddae….” he said, “Daddae……” and he was out of that sandpit like a blooming rocket and clamped to Daddy’s side like a limpet, while poor Daddy was struggling with toileting the three-year old, at the same time. Made me smile…. Our job was done.

After the Sutton Sleaths left, we had a rest for half an hour before we popped round to Pete and Dawn’s. Grandpa wasn’t exhausted after all. He managed to load a large piece of timber into the VW (roof down) ready to deliver to Pete. “You’ll have to walk round,” he said to me, “there’s no room in the car for you.” Then he managed to manhandle the timber out of the car and help Pete set it into position in his garden, too. And here was me, worried that it might all have been too much playing with the children this morning……..

Freedom? Yes, thank you. Not freedom as we know it, but in our beautiful bubble of family and friends, it’s not too bad, really, is it? Who needs a disco or a cinema or a theatre when you’ve got your own, home-grown one with the grandchildren, eh?

Not going to spoil the memory of such a lovely day by posting COVID figures today. Take care everyone. Savour every moment you can. God bless.