The other day at breakfast he told me he wanted to swap his spoon because it was stinky.  Last night as I read to him he took the book, closed his eyes, had a deep inhale, and told me that it smelled good.

The only thing he doesn’t mind getting a bit whiffy is trusted, floppy, Lulu.  Yesterday he reached his limit, he’d had enough.  After a prolonged sniff he announced that she was too smelly and asked for her to be washed.  I had a sniff and immediately obliged.

Now everything is well in the world of the 4 year old again.  He can go back to sniffing spoons.

Once home the crying subsided, he ate some chocolate and went off to play on the trampoline.   This confirmed that he hadn’t broken anything and I didn’t have to spend 4 hours waiting in A&E whilst he jumped off the furniture.

Later he wanted to watch TV and got snuggled up on the sofa with Lulu. 

I sat next to him and he put his feet on my lap.  I gave his feet a tickle and he said …

“Hit my feet like Grandpa does”

So I patted his feet gently.

“NO!  Harder like Grandpa does and on the bottom” he demanded.

So I slapped the soles of his feet as he relaxed and watched Mister Maker.

Lulu is the 3 year olds best friend. A soft lamb which he has slept with and loved for all of his 3 years.

Her stuffing has worn away making her slouch, she is a bit smelly and she could do with a good clean.

I had been out with teacher friend mother of three and we had visited a museum and a clothing store. It didn’t dawn on me until we got home that Lulu was missing.

I rang the museum which was closed and then the clothing store.

I spoke to someone who said nothing had been handed and got a bit emotional. I told her that we love Lulu and that we just want her home. I left my number with someone who probably thought I was ringing from the home for the terminally bewildered and asked them to call if she turned up.

The 3 year old is having his ear operation this week and Lulu was going to go with him to hold his hand. I paced up and down the kitchen. I rang teacher friend mother of three several times to ask her to search her car.

In my mind I was berating myself for not buying two Lulu’s all those years back when my pregnant heart fell in love. I thought about tracking another down on ebay, but decided it just wouldn’t be the same. There is only one Lulu.

I actually felt like crying, bereft; all for a smelly, floppy lamb.

Then the phone rang, it was the clothing store, they had found Lulu. I danced around the kitchen, I rang teacher friend mother of three again, I then broke the news to the 3 year old that Lulu was having a sleepover and they would be reunited the following day.

He seemed a little disappointed, but happy that Lulu would get to try on all those clothes. I must admit, I expected more devastation, after all they have never spent a night apart

… Which begs the question, who is more attached to Lulu?

I think Lulu will be holding my hand in hospital when my boy goes into the operating theatre.

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