New Years Eve brought around a new tradition.
We sat by the fire and scribbled our one hope and wish for the upcoming year.
Mine was simple…
‘No more hospital trips for my children.”
Twin girl smiled and stroked my hand reassuring, BB leaned in for a cuddle, Twin boy sat up as if he had been shot.
“I don’t think so,” he spat. “It’s my turn for a hospital break.”
Clearly the funding to the NHS needs reducing as Twin boys sees a stay on a ward as a wonderful treat…
Plus it would seem my son has a selective memory…
The first two years of his life were somewhat vomit filled. Before he turned one he had redecorated our wallpaper with speckles of dinner and the carpet cleaner from Hire Station was a frequent guest at our home.
He had his own pediatrician, craniologist and we spent a lot of time in the GP’s surgery although after the time he was sick in a plant pot our appointments never seemed to run late.
I fed this back with enthusiasm to twin boy, watching the looks of joy spread across his face and his sisters as I told stories of vomiting in inappropriate places.
“So I was poorly first?” asked my son with a jubilant expression.
“Yes” I replied.
“Great!” he continued with a humph, “just my luck to get an illness before I can use the hospital x box.”
With that he dramatically swung on his heel and pranced into his bedroom.
There is simply no helping some people.
For anyone else whose carpets have been ruined by reflux babies, toddlers with play doh (or the occasional glass of red) I can recommend checking out this link – it has saved me on many occasion.