The Garden of Blighty

The garden makes the boy nervous. I say garden, I mean little courtyard. I say little courtyard, I mean postage stamp of concrete.

The garden has gravel and uneven surfaces. All of these worry the boy as they throw his balance problems into focus. We had been pretend cooking and needed some mint from the garden. Initially, he made me carry him whilst we went outside to get it.

Since it was a pleasant evening for a change, I was showing him other plants. He spotted a ball he had thrown from the safety of the doorway a few days ago. And his little watering can. This encouraged him to want to do some watering. I left him on the bench and went to get his shoes. With his shoes on he was happy to do watering whilst holding my hand for support. Eventually, he did have a few forays on his own round the garden. Carefully picking his way round and crouching down to water the pots. He gets so upset if he spills water outside the pot because of the mess. And worse if he gets some water on himself.

After a nice time, I expected to sleep well. But it was not to be. Restless sleep filled with stress and anxiety about work. And, inevitably, about the boy. Couldn't help recalling that there are only five children who we have met in hospital that we have kept in contact with over the last two years or so. Of these, two are doing fine. But three didn't make it. Not a representative sample but doesn't cheer me much.