Mummy does her duty

Little bear was tired this morning, but no more than I expected after the hen racing, and I had already planned to try and get him to nap @ 11am before nursery. He normally doesn't get a nap on a nursery day, as he sort of does/sort of doesn't need a nap in the afternoon. I coaxed some food into him and he had a nice nap and we went to nursery.

Around 5pm, as I was gearing to get him, nursery rang me. He was running a temperature, refusing medicine, saying he was 'fine - I just fine' and refusing to eat his favourite food at nursery. He had also, unheard of, just gone to sleep.

I shot up there, and little bear was just lying there on the cushions, flat out. I woke him up with a bit of a cuddle and he stood up. He looked completely bewildered, and was being very evasive about how he felt, then he was sick.

Little bear is very rarely sick, so I don't think he quite knows how to deal with it. As it was he was very distressed as it just kept coming. And as he had stood next to me and I was still kneeling, it landed on me. All over me. I was covered. I was still in the coat, which took the worst, but the rest of my clothes got hit as well. Little bear was also covered, but he had a spare change of clothing at nursery.

And he was too poorly to scoot his scooter home. I had considered a taxi, but didn't think that they would take me and the staff at the nursery thought that fresh air might help little bear, especially cooling him down. So I staggered home (several hundred yards, it felt like miles) with little bear's clothes and my coat in a black bin sack, which I clutched in the same hand as his scooter and back pack. The other hand was very busy holding on to little bear's hand as he was not a happy bear.

I managed to coax a dose of baby nurofen into him, then eventually an egg custard (provided by darling father) and a bottle of Yazoo milk shake. He refused the toast I made him, and didn't want anything else. I was just happy that he had something in him. Then he calmed down as he watched Disney channel and eventually was taken up to bed where he coaxed four stories out of me.

I am considering the coat. It is several years old - probably about seven or eight years old but it could be more. It is more of a jacket, really, and was not very expensive. I had been considering alternatives, anyway, so I think it can stay in the bin bag. Likewise my jeans - they had had their day, their zip had gone, the hems were frayed. They can go in the bag. My top, well, I bought that in 1997, and it shows. I had nearly thrown it out at the last wash. That can go in the bag.

Little bear's clothes, well, the top was on its way out. I remember putting it on just before nursery and thinking that it would have to be retired. As much of little bear's wardrobe it was 'pre-owned' and less wear in it than you would think and it was getting far too small. I can't remember his little jeans. I suspect that they were also a bit on the elderly side as if they are the ones I remember they were definitely on his last wear. They were creeping relentlessly up towards his knees and it is the wrong sort of weather for cut offs. They can stay in the bin bag.

I am now trying to remember if there was anything vital in my coat pockets.