Rough and Not Ready

I’m ill.  How totally and utterly inconvenient it is for my body to decide that it just wants to sleep and recover when I have stuff to do.  Like looking after children, for example, who make it perfectly clear that my feeling rough is an indisposition to them, too.

Thankfully my father-in-law has taken our eldest to school and my friend has taken our three year old to nursery, so all that’s left for me to do is to lie on the settee under a blanket, feeling sorry for myself and listening to our twenty two month old causing havoc in the conservatory.

Now doors are locked and stair gates are in place so I know he can’t get himself into any major mischief, and yet I can still hear him finding every item possible that has a potential for danger or destruction.

Whilst I’ve been typing this he’s been emptying pencil crayons and more importantly FELT TIPS all over the floor so I know that any minute I’ll need to summon the energy to get up and move them out of reach before the walls and settees are decorated in toddler artwork.

He’s now shaking the coins out of a money box that are ideal choking size, should he decide to put them in his mouth…which today, of course, he will, so they’ll need to be retrieved.

He’s gone quiet so I need to will myself into action because I know he’ll be climbing on the toy box and then the window sills, which, if I don’t go and intercept, will lead to him falling or getting himself tangled in the cords from the blinds.

I had a moment’s reprieve when he sat on my knee wearing the case from my laptop over his head and ‘helpfully’ passing me my charger…until he got down and then returned, placing half a dead slug on my knee which the dog has brought in; what else would you expect?

So I’d better finish this, because after getting him down from the table in the living room where he was just about to knock a photograph off the wall, he’s now hurtling up and down, throwing himself onto the settee and giggling his head off, but wait…I can hear him lifting the toy box lid.  Uh oh, trapped finger alert.

Oh, to be poorly in peace.  Roll on nap time 🙂