The big clean-up

After nine and a quarter hours of almost unbroken sleep, Baby B sprang awake and leapt back into action, and R and I found ourselves on full-scale Boy Duty once again. Which would have been fine if either of us had experienced a similarly restful night, but having been almost sleep-free in the heat and humidity, it would be fair to say that we found a 5.30am start just a little trying. Still, there were two of us, and the Boy Wonder at least was bright and cheerful, so we managed reasonably well. I must say though that it was strange to find myself out in the garden, trying to find bees at the Boy's request, before the bees themselves had bothered getting out of bed.

B is a pretty straightforward little chap on the whole. Like anyone else he has his likes and dislikes, but he's generally disposed to be happy and engaged, and (occasionally at least) he's prepared to consider negotiation on the things he doesn't like. But he does have a couple of quirks out of which he's not yet prepared to be talked. One of these is that he hates noisy machinery - of any kind, from the vacuum cleaner to the lawnmower - and another (which I guess is related in a way) is that he objects vehemently and vocally whenever an aeroplane flies over the garden. To be fair, I agree with him that aeroplanes are ridiculous and unnatural - if Nature had intended us to fly, we'd have evolved wings - but given that R and I live a few miles from a gliding club, whose planes are towed into the air by light aircraft, I could do with B getting over this phobia sooner rather than later.

The anti vacuum cleaner reaction can also be a little tiring, especially when a small hand vac' is the obvious implement to use in clearing up the under-high-chair detritus at the end of a meal. However, after it had transpired at 6.30am today that the Shark was terrifying and intolerable, and could throw a Boy's entire equilibrium out of whack, R didn't risk using it again after lunch, but instead resorted to an ancient dustpan and brush from somewhere in the depths of the cleaning cupboard. The last time this brush was favoured was as a chew toy by a puppy, and we haven't had a puppy for twenty years, but B was enchanted with it. He cleaned the whole kitchen floor, the cupboard fronts, the dishwasher, the fridge, and as much of the table and chairs as he could reach, before moving into the snug and cleaning the furniture, soft furnishings (Aaarrrggghh!!!), the French windows, the cupboards and occasional tables, and all of his toys. It was really very charming, even if I did have to hurl myself at various items over the course of half an hour, and whisk them up out of his reach. This rocking chair once belonged to my parents, and I wish more than I can tell you that they were still around to see this, and be entertained by Baby B's antics.

Half way through the afternoon R loaded up the car with the hundredweight of equipment with which the Boy had come supplied, and we shipped him back over to Wales, meeting up with his parents at Tredegar House, and transferring Boy and gear back to them in the car park. He was happy to see them, but didn't seem in any way relieved to be back in their care, and was still just as charming and chatty with R and me as he'd been for the preceding day and a half. So we're confident that he enjoyed his solo visit as much as we enjoyed having him. We're pleased - and I must confess, relieved - about that.