Tried really hard to make the best of my Saturday with the boy, even though he was cranky because of the virus. He spent Friday afternoon constantly wanting Mummy and Saturday constantly wanting to go to see auntie. I explained she had gone out but he was unconsolable.
Eventually, he calmed and we agreed to go to the shops to buy cake and milk. Happily wandered round the shop. Happy to pay. But after paying, he said he wanted to go to auntie's house. I explained for the umpteenth time that she was out. So, he broke down at the checkout. Tears, beating his head, slumped sobbing by the buggy. I tried to explain again but it was useless. Everytime he let go of the buggy or was distracted momentarily by another customer, I moved the buggy forward a few inches. Took us half an hour to get to the front door of the shop. And then he seemed to notice the automatic doors for the first time. Spent ages sitting on his trike watching them open and close. He was so impressed. Kept pointing them out to me as if I'd also never seen them before.
But by the afternoon I was worn out in that end-of-week way. Just too tired to enjoy him. Just doing minimum cares to get me to the end of the day and his bedtime. Nothing I haven't known before. But added poignancy now that there are a finite number of Saturdays. Who knows how many. I need to do something about work. I don't want to get to his end with regrets that may stalk me.
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