I have just spent a perfect hour with the lad. The twins were asleep, the husband is at Bunnings (NZ answer to B&Q) so the lad and I sat outside in the morning sunshine and painted each other's nails. He asked me to sit still and said that the pearlised pink nail polish he had chosen made him feel like we had rainbows in our hands. I damn near folded over inside with love for the little boy. A few months ago before I went back to England for nine weeks he was getting seriously difficult to deal with. The time at home with my parents was perfect as I got to spend lots of time with each of the children individually. My parents offer such an vast amount of support, never get annoyed with crying babies or toddlers and do such interesting things with them all as well as constant cuddling and chatting. Predictably this benefited the lad enormously so by the time we came back to NZ he had calmed down quite a bit. Recently he has been more tricky again. He is hard to discipline as he has an answer for everything (any of my close friends reading this will be scoffing in recognition of this clearly hereditary trait) and is unafraid of standing up for himself even in the face of a puce, boggled eyed, raging mother. Two days ago I spent a good hour making jigsaws with him, yesterday he helped me cook all morning and today we had more time together in the garden. There is no doubt that when I find time to direct all my attention at him he is miles happier and more amenable. It's not rocket science, we all know how it works.
The picture isn't relevant to the post - just one of me on Christmas Day. I love a bit of puerile humour.