It’s been one of those mornings. Pure mayhem since Sam woke up screaming and yelling (a possible nightmare?), as Bill was leaving for work super early. Tried to persuade Sam that it was still sleepy time and to go back to bed, but he wasn’t buying it. Cuddled up in bed with me, Sam happily told me that he had been dreaming about Bagpuss driving diggers doing tricks, and there were lots of kitty cats! His voice was giddy at the recollection. Then he got serious and said something about “and it got dark and Daddy shut the door and….” and would go no further. I guess he did have a nightmare about something, what exactly it was that happened I don’t know.
Not content to snuggle for a bit and get some more kip Sam preferred to raid the cookies we’d made yesterday when Lisa and Garrett came over to play, to spill yogurt drink all over his bedding, and dig around in all the cupboards and pull out his wooden articulated snake that I had thought I had successfully hidden. You see, Sam had tried to give it a bath and it had reacted by shedding little wooden scales all over the house, so I was futilely hoping to try to mend it as he loves it so.
Sam’s been an absolute brute today. He’s not purposefully being rough, but he has managed to hurt me numerous times as he has charged around whipping his snake around with him. I had to threaten to throw the snake away if he wasn’t more careful with it. He has no concept of personal space and seems to spend every waking moment invading mine and bumping, crashing, knocking into me.
I had big plans for what I had to get done today and have managed none of it. I really needed to get to the stores for some last minute gifts and cooking supplies, but the thought of having to drag Sam and Bea to several shops is too much. I did manage to cook up a nice lunch and feed the kids some decent vegetables (as opposed to falling back on pasta, cheese and yogurts), but that’s about all I’ve accomplished.
I didn’t even notice that Quincy was missing until I put the kids down for a nap after their meal and realised that the floor was strangely still covered in food. That’s not right. A rapid poke around the house determined that Quince was nowhere to be found and that the back door was unlocked and not quite snug to the frame. I couldn’t even remember when I’d last seen the dog. Not totally unusual as he likes to camp out on my bed and get it all hairy and smelly, but concerning.
I’d just got a tired Bea to sleep and she had melted my heart by lying down in her cot, gazing up at me and waving “buh bye” as I told her sweet dreams. I could hear the crashing and clattering of manic construction from Sam’s room begin to fade too. In moments I went from being relieved to be finally miraculously having a moment of serenity to cursing that now I’d have to go shake the kids from their beds and go haring around the neighbourhood looking for Quincy.
When I had unpacked the tree and decorations I had also pulled out Genghis’ named stocking from the Christmas box, and memories of his awful last moments had come flooding back. I can still clearly see poor crazy Gingernuts lying lifeless in Moreland Rd and thoughts of Quincy succumbing to such a horrid fate sickened me and made my stomach drop as I ran around outside hoping that he may not have strayed too far. I had no idea how long Quince had even been adventuring.
There was nothing for it. I had to go get the kids and bundle them into the car to go a Quincy hunting.
Silence greeted me from Sam’s room as I entered and I mentally cursed some more as I found him curled up in his bed with Bagpuss stuffed down his underpants looking all relaxed and sleeping the sleep of angels. A little oasis of calm in the centre of his tornado wrecked room. Even with nap interrupted he was full of beans again, and cackling as he leaped from his headboard on his bed and bounced around, a mess of flailing arms and legs. I struggled to get him dressed and into emergency Fireman Sam mode to go rescue the dog. After fighting to put his shoes on his fast little feet we left the house and got as far as getting Sam and Bagpuss (he had to come with us because Bagpuss likes to chase dogs) into the car when a familiar jingle jangle could be heard coming closer and closer. Quincy’s collar was clinking away as he plodded down the street, coming home of his own accord. He was shaking his little rear end as he trotted and looking as happy to see us as we were to see him, in one piece and safe.
Thank goodness I had also not got as far as waking up the Bea to join us. She slumbered on oblivious.