Every morning we were up and out early, and climbing on something new. Plastic galleons, foamy staircases, trampolines and crash mats. My, he loved the crash mats. Especially the ones that were as big as our living room and on a slope, so he could bounce and shriek and roll down them like a demented Tigger.
We discovered some excellent new hang outs. Toddlers' World at Crystal Palace Sports Centre on Monday was great fun, and the drop-in session at Crystal Palace Gymnastics Club on Wednesday was squishy, bouncy heaven. When the teacher gave him one of those sticks with twirly ribbons on the end and encouraged him to swish it around and dance, he was so happy I thought he might combust. We also went to a playgroup in our local church hall, during which Samuel became very attached to a plastic aubergine. He carried it around with him for the whole hour, bolting across the Lino, gurning and waving it above his head like the FA cup. We did soft play one morning too and played the 'guess how many bodily fluids are underneath the balls in the ball pool' game.
By Thursday lunchtime I was feeling pretty smug about all the toddler fun I'd laid on for him. I was hi-fiving myself for my excellent mum skillz. It was short-lived.
I mean, given all the toys and the kids he played with this week, it shouldn't have come as a surprise that he'd pick up a bug. And yet come as a surprise it did. Largely because the projectile vomit that came out of nowhere last night was like something in a horror film. There's no doubt about it - this little boy excels at dramatic puking. And it just kept on coming. Between the three of us we got through four outfit changes within ten minutes, and James's t-shirt, which bore the brunt of the onslaught, is still covered in sick after two cycles in the washing machine. It was intense. But we cleaned up, comforted Samuel, read to him and settled him back down to sleep.
He woke up feeling lots better today, but he was pretty knackered so we gave our Monkey Music class a miss and instead sat on our arses watching CBeebies and mainlining toast. A lazy mother? Me? Well. Sometimes you can have such a thing as too much action.