Finley_1

You probably won’t be able to tell in this picture, but the eye Finley has got scrunched is a rather bewitching shade of purply blue. The silly child jumped out of his cat with all the finesse of a drunken cat and this is the result… 

We have had a dog of a weekend. On Friday I noticed Finn’s tummy was a bit swollen, and wondered if he had ate something dodgy. So I racked my brains, but as far as I could think he hadn’t ate anything he shouldn’t. So we carried on with our day, and during that, and the following day, Finley was spectacuarly naughty with a demeanour that stretched the limits of cheekiness to breaking point. We attended a kid’s party and had to leave because Finley wouldn’t leave the birthday boy alone, ( he pinched him during pass the parcel ) and by the time we got to Mum’s on Saturday night, he was beyond horrible. 

So we took him home, snuggled him to sleep and planned a romantic evening in, of the kind that lately have been few and far between. But, oh that we should be so lucky! Nine 0’clock that night Finley started vomiting everywhere. We bathed him, brought him down, and I snuggled up with my dossile boy on the couch. Which was lovely. Until episode two, whereby Finley turned round, looked at me beseechingly and threw up all over me. Head to toe. And on it went. With Mark and I rushing about like smelly headless chickens and Finley hysterical because he couldn’t bear to look at the mess (Clean it Daddy. Put it in a bag.)…

We considered concussion from the cot jump, a banana he had ate at dinnertime, too much gluten free party food, or a stolen birthday cake  that would aggravate his celiacs, and then spent half an hour wondering whether to take him to A+E, by which time he was sitting on the floor playing Thomas the Tank Engine and wondering if he could have a biscuit. and though I spent the night popping in and out of his room to make sure he hadn’t choked and died (my first sleepless night since he was born), he was fine.

Today I have delivered him to nursery and politely enquired what they fed him on Thursday, to which they replied "Oh ham. Lot’s and lot’s of ham. Couldn’t get enough of it."

Which is wonderful. Finley can’t have ham.