Boy #2 and I were rushing this morning. Rush, rush, rush, that's all we ever do, it seems. I'm not actually sure that his days at home with me when his brother is at school are actually 'rest days' at all. Today this was all my fault as a result of over-scheduling, and because as Husband is travelling, it's all down to me and split second timing to make Boy #1's ridiculously early start at school. (How I ever thought it was difficult dealing with only one pre-school child before Boy #2's arrival escapes me now...)
So anyway, after a brake-screeching arrival outside the school 5 minutes before register started (result!), Boy #2 and I made a speedy visit to the supermarket, went home to drop off the shopping, and then climbed back into the chariot that is our clapped-out Skoda to drive down to Chelsea Theatre on the Kings Road (more of why in a moment). On the way, a car turned out into the road in front of us and I had to put in an emergency stop (that's my story and I'm sticking to it). No biggie, no stress, I just stopped. Quite quickly, yes, but without any drama.
Or at least, 'without any drama' is what I thought.
From the back seat, however:
Me: "I beg your pardon?"
Boy #2: "Shoooooooot, Mama! Ssssshhhhhhoooot!!"
How can I kid myself these substitute curses sound so innocuous and acceptable when I say them, but when used by my nearly 3 year old - in the right context and, I might add, in the right tone of voice - it sounds just as bad as the worst swear word you ever heard?
(We were on our way to the Chelsea Theatre, by the way, to see a performance of 'William's Monsters' - developed by the same team who did the stage version of 'The Gruffalo'. It was BRILLIANT. If you have the chance, I highly recommend it. Boy #2 was transfixed for a whole hour, and I was smiling from the moment it started. I'm hoping to get tickets for Husband to take Boy #1 once school's out, it was that good.)
This afternoon, I took the Boys on a playdate. We were in new territory, we hadn't been to visit these girls before (for oh yes, they were girls). I was a little nervous, it had to be said. Two Boys in a girls-only very pink environment, with girl-focused toys? It could have got ugly.
I needn't have worried. The Boys behaved impeccably. Initially I thought this was because there were trains in evidence (my younger son will forgive any number of dolls if there is a locomotive in evidence), but as we left I realised that there was more to it. These girls are petite, well-behaved - at least, whilst we were there - and above all pretty. And the Boys, without being prompted, kissed them as they said goodbye.
I don't know whether to laugh or cry...