Prologue 

This was the week when good things happened and when good things happen you have to write them down before the next good thing happens and it gets forgotten. The things that feel the hugest and make your stomach drop and your eyes well up become a prologue to the next hugest thing so you must write them down somewhere and I write them here.

I don’t write about Ned and Kits relationship often because it kicks the shit out of my weary heart. I have the first line of blog posts stored in my notes that don’t get finished because it hurts. But I can tell you that my sons do not interact with one another. Not really. Well, Ned doesn’t interact with Kit. Kit spends a considerable amount of time trying to get noticed and usually chooses the most annoying ways to do so. Chucking stuff about that makes that loud crash that Ned dislikes. Or yanking his too long hair. Whatever it takes. Sometimes I am cross with him because he’s a major pain the arse and I can see why Ned chooses to ignore him. But mostly I can see why he does it. Because for a split second Ned looks his way or he takes back the book Kit has just snatched out of his hand. For a split second there is something. 

Which brings me to this week of good things. Lots of good things. The week Ned picked up Kits spoon and started feeding him his yoghurt. Silently and accepted by Kit, he fed him until the bowl was empty and they carried on with their day. Not a word spoken while their mother watched on blinking back tears and thanking god someone had the sense to grab their camera. 

A few days later we were driving to group. Kit was crying in the car. Kit always cries in the car. It’s boring and loud and he gets crosser and crosser until he realises it’s not getting him anywhere when he (sometimes) shuts up and stares out of the window from underneath his permanent frown. This week just as we pulled into our destination Ned leaned over and said “Don’t worry Kit”. Just like that. Perhaps it was echolalia, perhaps a learned phrase (this is what we say when someone is crying) but he said it. He noticed him and spoke directly to him. It didn’t work incidentally. Kit continued to cry and me and my dad joined in while we all sat in the carpark and Ned looked confused about why we weren’t getting out now the car had stopped.

Today we went for lunch. We met our friends who we love. This is pretty much a weekly event. Me, her and our four children have met for lunch or coffee most weeks for over a year. Four children who until today at 11:30 had sat at table together but never really interacted with one another. Ned generally eats his lunch with his eyes down until he asks for my phone or another distraction to take him away from the event. Today Ned drank his water too fast and it went down the wrong hole as my Nan would have said. He coughed and spluttered and regained his composure. Our friends youngest copied him, letting out a frankly disgusting cough from the depths of his tiny, gorgeous self. Ned looked up and smiled. And then coughed back. And then Kit coughed, and then her other son coughed. Ned smiled and coughed again. Thankfully we were the only ones in this part of the restaurant so it didn’t matter that our four sons were coughing all over our burgers while we grinned likes fools as we watched them play this game. A real game.

Ned tried something. He covered his eyes and said BOO!, the others copied. They were playing his game and he smiled and we all booed at eachother like loons. Then Kit choked on a piece of chicken and I had to turn him upside down and whack the crap out of him. The chicken flew out, Kit got cross with me that I had just saved his life and the moment was over. Ned wanted to go then so we fussed about with coats and said goodbye to our friends.

Tonight before bed we all sat on the sofa. I was feeding Kit while Daddy and Ned were reading. Ned scrambled off the sofa and went to the bookshelf and took two books and came back to where he’d been sitting. “One for Ned and one for Kit” he said. Kit ungratefully kicked his one on the floor but Ned didn’t notice so it was fine. 

Things are changing a little around here. In the smallest and biggest of ways. A yoghurt, a cough, a boo, a book. Slowly, slowly, these will become the prologue to the next story so i’m writing them down so I never forget the week where all the good things happened. 
 

  

  

Advertisements

4 thoughts on “Prologue 

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s