Rubik's cube obsessed

Ever since our neighbour came over with her Rubik's cube, Albug has been fascinated by them.  Today, after a year long wait, he used the money he has raised over the summer to buy his own cube.  It took him less than one minute to jumble up the squares to the point of not being able to get them back to their original positions.  It took the rest of dinner for him to jumble them further whilst declaring his advanced knowledge on how to get them back in order.  Smalley then got his hands on it. 

Riddle for the day: if it takes one Albug one minute to get lost in a Rubik's cube, how many years will it take to get it back to normal?
(PS handing it over to the Rubik's genius neighbour this weekend when she comes to babysit will be regarded as cheating.  Judge's rule's final. Though to be fair, the judge isn't worried.  Even if Eva does save the day/cube it will be messed up again within minutes the next morning!)

 

I broke a bone in my arm.

When Alby was 3 I had the pleasure of spending the morning in Salisbury hospital A&E after he
bashed his leg in something and lost the ability to straighten it. Despite much speculation from all members of the family, quick to offer a sound and robust diagnosis despite bone of us having actually attended medical school in any shape or form, we've still no idea what happened. However, the children's room in A&E was well equipped and the boys had a fun morning exploring the new toys whilst I made lists of all the jobs I needed to do but couldn't because I was stuck in the hospital.

Skip forward three years and a different but strangely similar scene can be witnessed. This time the morning wounded at Salisbury hospital were treated to George and his daddy in A&E. First came the meeting in the side room with the nurse, then the walk to radiography. With Albug this resulted in us discovering that little people have no knee caps. With Smalley we learnt that whilst its very difficult to break little bones - those things are just too pliable, they can crease, bump and buckle.

George  did say he tried to stop himself falling but couldnt. He did say his owwie wouldn't go away. He said he cried and cried. He did protect it, keeping it limp at his side and not trying to use it, not even for a thumb war. He also said he broke a bone, turns out he wasn't quite right but he did fracture it.

Alb's damaged leg went without a diagnosis. For George the x-day showed a bump on the bone, a buckle fracture, and the little dude is now fashioning his own red gizmo/ninja strap (name dependent on how much he feels like being a dinosaur hunter or ninja at any given time).

In some sort of weird twist of logic the red wrist brace has made him think he is invincible and he’s even more daring. The A&E visit was followed by a play date with Albug’s school friends at a local house and gardens. The place is immense and the boys love it as it is home to one of the best adventure playgrounds we’ve ever been too - slides two storeys high, sunken trampolines, boat swings, zip wires and a beautiful Japanese water garden that has proven itself a great spot for hide and seek. Smalley did everything including having a tantrum when I told him he couldn’t dangle from a tree like the other boys.  Back home and he was straight on the trampoline.

For the first few days he hated having to take it off and I was worried he’d be wearing it for life. We have two days left and he now hates putting it on, which shows it must be working!

Whilst we were waiting for the diagnosis my mum messaged, hoping he was well and commenting she couldn’t imagine him in a cast. To be honest, I’m amazed he’s survived this long without it.  He was walking at nine months, a fact that amazes me more now than it did when I was living it, and he’s never slowed.

I went KABOOM!

Originally written on 28 May - it's just taken awhile to post!

Ensuring some family time on the Bank Holiday Monday we went to the lakes to give Percy a good walk and the rest of us a change of scenery from the regular 4 dog walking routes immediately out our front door.
We come to the lakes every few month or so. It’s a bit run down but offers a decent circular walk, ducks to feed and plenty of other dog walkers; giving Percy social interaction and the boys moving targets to negotiate as they charge off on their bikes. There’s a children’s play park at the end of the walk allowing the human boys to burn the last of their energy whilst the dog boy recovers/sunbathes.

Smalley is a bit of a funny character. It appears he likes to object to things. He’ll resist bathtime and resist getting out of the bath with equal passion. At bedtime, when the last story has been read and his music out on he will defiantly announce that neither he nor you are to close your eyes, and then be asleep minutes later. When it comes to Percy walks he will routinely object to getting on his bike, really object, including regular deployment of crocodile tears, only to then jump on his bike and shoot off whilst shouting “I’m the winner.”

This day was no different. He resolutely refused to get on his bike only to then happily push along with his brother. The rocky, uneven path caused a few protests of “it’s too tricky” but they were quickly out to the side as we challenged him to races: “first to the tree”, “first to the bench”.  It had all the makings of a jolly fine walk. But then...I went kaboom!

The path running along the edge of the lakes is mostly covered in weeds, trees and stinging nettles but every now and then you get to a clearing where you can wade in the water or feed the ducks. We got to the first clearing, a nice stoney patch, a short steep-ish descent from the path with a small step into the water.

We all know where this story is going. Mark led Percy into the water for a wade and drink, I got the duck food out of the backpack and was struggling to untie it, Albs got off his bike to walk down to the bank and Smalley...He went straight down the bank, on his bike, stopping only when bike and child were underwater.
I saw him shoot last me and called for Mark in hope he would display superhuman speed and accuracy and stop George from hitting the water. He wasn’t able to stop the inevitable splash and subsequent tears but did a heroic job scooping Smalley and his bike out of the water.

To note, the water was about a foot deep and we’re Smalley older he would have instantly stood up. As it is, he is 3 and my husband is a hero.

Smalley was soaked. Head to toe drenched. By some absolute fluke we hadn’t done our normal trick of emptying our bag of all but food and water and through the tears we were able to get him quickly changed into dry clothes.
Credit to the little fella, as soon as the wet clothes were off the sobbing had stopped. By the time his clean, dry clothes were on he was laughing: I fell in the water!! I went KABOOM into the water. Daddy saved me. Silly me!
He didn’t complain once about having soaking shoes (unlike the hero Dad who was less than impressed with how much silt poured into his shoe during the rescue effort).

The rest of the walk was as it should be. Completely pleasant and filled with races, fish spotting and duck feeding. We even got the chance to coo over some ducklings and cygnets that we’re hiding in a quiet spot.

On Thursday the boys and I went to visit a friend at a different lake. Nobody fell in the lake this time, though every time we spotted water Smalley regaled us with the story of the time he went kaboom. As it turns out we didn’t need to fall in the lake to get drenched that day - we got caught in a downpour whilst running between shelters that reminded me of my childhood in the tropics.

So there you have it. The story of the day Smalley cycled into the lake. Mark kept asking “what was he thinking?” I don’t think he was. He saw me, the duck food and forgot that you need to keep your feet on the floor when going downhill on a balance bike. The boy certainly knows how to make a splash.

Rather than ignore my child in order to find my phone for the perfect post splash soaking, sobbing photo to go with this post, I opted for wet huggle buggles and speedy action. You’ll have to use your imagination for that. Instead, here is a picture of a cygnet for you to coo at.