Exercises for my heart

- I don't want to go. I'm too scared.

He clings to your side, refusing to enter the hall.

You check with the teachers that it's OK if his big brother and older neighbour stay with him this first time, even though they've moved up to the next group, then you forcibly carry him inside.

He bursts into tears, holds on to you even tighter.

You extricate yourself, go hide out of sight, heavy hearted. Are you really doing the right thing, leaving him there in his first gym class, barely 4 years old, just because you think it will do him good, your not-so-physically-daring child? After all, his brother was a whole year older when he started.

You peek out from your hiding spot. He's huddled on the floor, thumb in mouth, refusing to even look at anyone.

You worry some more.

You peek out again, catch the teacher's eye, give a questioning thumbs up.

He's joining in, she mouths.

Your heart lightens a little. You take a look, and indeed, there he is, climbing up the ladders then dropping to the mattress below. Carefully, not very high, but still.

Then he's trying the rings, really trying to swing on them by his arms, getting better each time. And his brother and neighbour are there, helping him, encouraging him. Your heart lightens some more.

Next there's a tag game. His brother chases him in exaggerated slow motion, letting his little brother win.

Your heart nearly breaks at how kind your older child is being.

Then he sees you, and breaks out into a delighted grin.

Did you see mummy? I'm doing the gym!

That's when your heart soars.

A manner of speaking

Mix together:

1. Being bilingual, where one language is essentially a posh version of the other
2. Many, many hours of listening to Roald Dahl stories
3. Very few English-speaking peers

and what do you get?

A 6-year-old who, when trying to convince me of something, starts with:

- Mummy, you're not obliged to do what I'm about to propose...

Elsewhere

So my mum called to complain about the lack of posting. Well OK, she called for Lukan's birthday, but she also wondered whether I'd written anything lately over at the other blog, the one about living in Switzerland. Which I have, but that gig and other work - plus Téo going back to school, which apparently means I get to spend every night covering books, as well as a superhero party to organize, and an absent husband for most of last week, oh and the babysitter who just failed to show up - left me without much time for posting over here, sorry.

Actually, I had a whole post written in my head last week, but given it was composed at 3am on the 3rd night in a row in which I did not sleep - DID NOT SLEEP - it's probably just as well I never got around to typing it up.

Well maybe I'll just share a bit of it with you. You see, I was under the impression that the taking of opiates left one rather relaxed. Barely conscious even. Isn't that what books and films portray? Dreamy, blissed-out people? Perhaps even drooling? Well, this was not my experience after taking codeine-laced cough medicine. No dreaminess, no bliss, no drool. No coughing either, so yes the medicine did work, but what's the point of not coughing if the medicine leaves me so wound up that I CANNOT SLEEP? Constipation is another side effect I could do without. I guess really, I should thank my body chemistry for reacting like this, as it most definitely discourages me from downing cough medicine for recreational purposes, but at 3am on the 3rd night of not sleeping I was not feeling so generous.

OK back to appeasing my mother. At the other blog, I wrote about:

• Houses
• Not being myself (my favourite)
• Shops being shut
• Weddings
• School
• School again

Hope you enjoy!

It's my Buzz Lightyear birfday!

And then a superhero party!

Happy 4th birthday my little big boy wonder!

Five years later

...and still going strong.

The Swiss side is winning

Today, upon seeing a certain sport on TV:

- Hey mummy, why are those men snowboarding on waves?

There and back

So yes, I did it again, disappeared into the ether, not even a Facebook of a warning. Sorry.

We were away again, this time in blustery, drizzly, chilly, but still somehow sun-burny England. Thankfully far far away from the riots, in Cornwall:

And then around a bunch of stones:

With a fairy godmother!

More photos on flickr one day soonish.

Now I'm off to eat vegetables. And fruit. Lots of both. Because after a week of English breakfasts and pub meals? I have a serious craving for raw and crunchy.