Due to the fact that his older siblings are at school Mr. Small spends a great deal of his time going everywhere I go.
In recent months this has involved what he would deem "boring" trips to select ovens and tiles, or to choose carpets and fittings for the bathrooms.
Whenever we get out of the car to go into the shop I intone in my deepest, gravest voice: "Now *Mr Small* remember to have GOOD BEHAVIOUR."
And in an equally deep, grave voice he says: "Yes mummy, GOOD BEHAVIOUR!"
Usually we depart fifteen minutes later, with me flustered and sweat dripping down my back with a very cranky Mr. Small in tow.
You see, I can say those words and he can agree with them, but in his eyes they are meaningless. He just likes being able to say what I say. Fortunately these disastrous trips are becoming rarer, as I learn to make decisions more quickly, and he too learns some patience.
In many other ways however, he is a VSH (very small human)
At night-time he loves nothing more than to fall asleep to the sound of his daddy reading him a book. He kisses his big sister whenever she is crying. He joins in everything his older siblings do even though he can't do it very well.
They, being VSH's themselves, are very tolerant and understanding of his need to take part.
He insists on "helping" the builders whenever we visit our house.
He loves nothing more than helping me sort the laundry or if I'm helping out at a craft project at school. He isn't very good at them, and if I let him help it takes ten times as long, but I've really learned that my VSH wants to be an active part of my life.
So together we bake, we shop, we chatter and sing.We are able to go on "coffee dates" together where he gabbles away about everything from the full moon to the fascinating artefacts that clutter our local haunt.
 I've learned to soak up every minute of it.
Because all too soon my order will only be for one...


*Mr Small* not his real name obviously

Like most ex-teachers I am a great planner.
I could win awards for my planning.
This week, and possibly most of next week I am working at ACER. It's lovely to get suited up and march my offspring off to respective locations and go into an office.
They have a coffee machine at "my" office.
I find things like this hugely exciting.
So I planned this week and next carefully.
I ordered food.
I cooked nutritious, healthy meals that could be defrosted at the end of a day at the office (love saying that!)
I organised lifts, sitters and juggled the offspring's extra curricular activities round my new and temporarily increased workload.
I was at the top of my game.
But today when I came home Mr Small greeted me lovingly.
His little cheeks were flushed with fever, his cough was achingly noisy.
And that's what happens.
A wise friend said to me that she always plans to be able to do one less thing than she can manage. That way if it all comes crashing down, then she can cope.
I'd planned for other eventualities but not this one.
Fortunately husband is kindly staying home to mind Mr Small.
Whilst I am jealous that he gets to snuggle with my delicious toddler, I know Mr Small could not be in more loving hands.
And so I have duly prepared sandwiches for lunch, organised uniforms and my outfit for work tomorrow.
And I know there is a long night ahead with a sick Mr Small.
But that's the way the balls fall sometimes.
Despite, or maybe because of all my planning.

I am in a remarkably snarky mood today.
The reasons are articulated far more eloquently than I ever could over here.
In order to distract myself from said mood, I have partaken in a Zumba class today and am planning a long run tomorrow.
In addition, I went through my photo album.
And for those of you feeling similarly...for your viewing pleasure: Mr Small.

And introducing our new additions: Sparkles and Lily.

How did this non animal lover end up as "mother" to these insanely cute, fluffy bundles? I'll share it another day, when I'm not, you know, cranky. Or, as cranky.
Have a great weekend everyone.

I found while I was out running today that I was holding my breath in. Just a little.
It's a crazy week ahead filled with family reunions, the wedding, birthdays, MRI scans (mine) and the biggest thing of all (to my mind) is what is happening to Mr Small.
I should say at this point that my small child is quite possibly the most mischievous creature ever created. In case you think I am exaggerating, here is irrevocable proof. And this is in the last 12 weeks or so.





And so I am a little tense.
Because on Wednesday before the sun rises I will wrap my Mr Small in a warm blanket and strap him into his car-seat. I'll drive him to hospital and spend a while battling to stop him removing the anaesthetic cream the nurse will place on the back of his chubby little hand.
I'll smile, and I'll laugh and I'll keep him occupied. And he will put his little hand in mine as we walk into the operating room. He will sit on my lap and I will sing him his special song. I'll keep him distracted while they put the injection in his hand. My face will be the last face he sees as he drifts into a deep sleep.
And then they will whisk me out of the room while they perform a very simple operation that will help his hearing improve.
And I'll pace the floor outside waiting.
And when they call me to say he is in post-op and I can come and see him now.
Then,
then I'll release the breath I've been holding since today.