Friday, 20 June 2008

June 2008

I can hear the sounds of happiness coming from the next room; Thomas the train rushing down his blue plastic railroad tracks, interjected by enthusiastic squeals of delight from the boys.

I smile as I prepare their night bottles. I pour the fortified milk straight into Cody’s bottle, a habit we have still to knock out, and then I turn my attention to the more complicated preparation of John’s special formula: warm the water, pour it first, then the sachet of the liquid meal with the 300 calories, then 5 measured spoonfuls of his special thickened GF formula. Shake well. Add cold water. Shake some more. Add the fish oil, add the Echinacea, grind and add the pediatric sleep enhancer. Shake some more, screw lid, find appropriate pacifier.
The cat watches me with interest, his blue eyes recording my every move. When I turn to look at him, he snuzzles his empty water bowl, asking me in his own way to refill it. He dips his tongue a few times before coming after me, tail held high like a flag pole in the air.

I walk into the boys’ room, bottles in hand. In the middle of the colorful carpet, sits their newest acquisition; A brand new Thomas the Tank Engine set. Two Thomas trains run on the same line as the boys watch in fascination. Thomas has been a favorite for the last 6 months. It took us a while to replace the first Thomas that after being played with for 6 months daily, broke into 5 pieces. But today the new Thomas is here. In fact we got two sets since John has now become interested as well and we would do anything to stop the fighting.

As the boys watch the plastic train with the happy face run along his line, their eyes shine as bright as the stars, and so do mine, and a smile creeps along my face until it spans ear to ear. My heart throbs with happiness, the price tag of $150 already forgotten in the face of their obvious joy.
They don’t even notice me standing over them and I creep sideways like a crab over to their bookcase to put the bottles and pacifier down. It’s time for their bath and it’s past their bed time but I don’t have the heart to tell them. Ten more minutes, I tell myself and quietly I leave the room…