Choo choo!

24.12.12.

We got up very early today and went with my sister and her family to the East Lancashire Railway. We had tickets for the 'Santa Express' - a steam train that makes its way through the Lancashire countryside with Father Christmas, a brass band and carols along the way. 

Dexter loved... a puddle on the platform and the dustbin truck on the other side of the tracks. He didn't have a meltdown though when Santa made his way through the carriage. I had my suspicions about the sobriety levels of 'Frosty the Snowman', and wanted to punch the so-called magician with his one trick (flicking a paper bag as the children 'threw' an imaginary ball into it). Hilariously, he accused me of 'dropping' said 'ball'. I held back from washing down my two 10am Ibuprofen with the complementary sherry.

It was actually a very lovely and very Christmassy experience - perhaps the start of a Christmas tradition? We followed it with a family lunch at a cutesy cafe near my parents' home. This meant a very late nap and a late evening bed time for the boy. Hope he keeps those eyes tightly shut for the big FC's second visit of the day...

Driving home for Christmas

23.12.12.

Team Wayne left the house at 9.15 this morning: this is unprecedented for a non-work day.

We drove the epic journey to my parental home in Manchester. It took less than five hours with only two stops. The boy slept for most of it.

The afternoon was spent with Dexter hanging out with his cousins and playing in my parents' lovely garden.

It feels like a very happy start to the holidays!

House hunting - again!

22.12.12.

Given my mood in the last couple of weeks, I had decided we would do something constructive about it today. I had booked an appointment to see more houses on a new development in a village very close to my destination of choice.

It was a really positive experience with three main highlights: we really liked all three houses we viewed; a hungry Dexter ate some plaster in one of them and seems to have suffered no adverse side-effects; the lovely sales guy is a former actor whose dad played Roy in EastEnders - I liked this piece of trivia.

The venture has given us the impetus for 'Project Move 2013' and hopefully, we will be putting the flat on the market in the new year.

Another highlight was a cheeky little visit to McDonalds on the way home. The boy devoured a Happy Meal with the same gusto he had just been trying to eat the infrastructure of the house with.

I went to a lovely wedding reception in the evening with a fabulous swing band playing. With two weeks off stretching out in front of me, I am definitely getting in the swing of Christmas now.

Yaaaaay!!!

21.12.12.

Today's #366 photograph says it all. We've made it to the last day of term! The lift-share ladies, the boy and I, just about made it to the pub for dinner. Dexter slept through dinner.

Exhausted.com

Have a little patience...

20.12.12.

I am writing this post retrospectively as I am so behind with the blog. My notes for today say: 'Patience is wearing thin'. I can't remember actual details - lost in the fug of the festive term.

The other line of notes for today simply reads: 'Dexter cried at FC'. So, Santa's visit to nursery was a hit then... Toddler's end-of-term patience wearing thin too?

Just Dexter

19.12.12.

I had an hour long appointment with the nursery owner and Dexter's key worker today. He has an IEP (Individual Education Plan), with three targets focusing on joining in and social interaction. Developmentally, according to a bizarre series of charts and the Early Years curriculum, the boy is 'behind' for his age group.

I was surprisingly cool with all of this. The discussion was useful and informative; they're pleased with his progress; they think he is an interesting little character.

He is my boy. He will undoubtedly do things his way. He will get there eventually. He will have any support put in place that he requires. He will always be loved and protected with the lioness heart I grew when he was placed in my arms.

Little voice

18.12.12.

I am struggling. My voice is very sore and weak; I sound like the love child of Marge Simpson and Deirdre Barlow. I suspect I may look a little like it too.

The boy kicked off royally at pick-up today but then held my hand in the back of the car (I wasn't driving), all the way home, while I mainlined Calpol.