Precious moments with my boy

DS and I are lying on the bed after his bath, having a little cuddle and a tickle. He puts his arms around my neck and pulls my head down to his.

“Mama I love you,” he sings to the Spice Girls’ tune. He knows it from DD, not from me, I hasten to add. It’s very sweet, because he’s pitch perfect.

“Mama I swear.

“Mama I love you…”

There’s a pause as he’s forgotten the next line. He improvises:

“I love your yellow hair.”

At which point he yanks out a handful and head-butts me.

Mummy’s boy

While most children have been back at school for ages by now, my littlest hobo, DS, only goes back tomorrow. He’s had nearly three months off school – and do you know what three months off school does for you?

It gives you a mummy’s boy.

I sent DS to nursery from the age of six months, precisely because I didn’t want him to be clingy (I’m Aquarius – we dislike clinginess be it in children, pets or husbands). We got through the separation thing and I was very pleased with my little boy who would trot happily into nursery without any fuss, and who waves me out of the house with a “Bye, mummy! See you later!” if I need to pop out.

But what I’ve got after spending three intense months with him is a mummy’s boy. “Mummy” has to do everything – Gerlie may as well file her toenails all day given he won’t let her do anything for him.  It’s all “Mummy do it!”, “I want mummy!” or “Mummy play it wiv me.”

I suppose there’s a tiny part of me that finds it sweet but, mostly, I find it beyond irritating, especially when I’ve given him 12 non-stop hours and I’ve been desperate for a chance to send just a couple of emails, make a phone call or look up something on the internet without my office chair being dragged across the floor (with me on it). So, as you can imagine, I’ve been hanging for tomorrow, when the little person goes back to nursery – just for four and a half hours a day (which still leaves plenty of time to choo-choo Thomas the Tank Engine round the living room floor in the afternoon).

“Back to school tomorrow!” I told him happily today, getting out his diddy uniform.

“No!” he said, folding his arms resolutely and giving me his stern look. “I not go school tomorrow. I stay home wiv mummy.” He almost stamped his little foot.

Wish me luck in the morning.