Proper full on back-to-school blues. That lugging Sunday night feel. I keep trying to hold William and sniff him and have profound moments but he keeps shrugging me off and telling me he’s bored and this is the worst day of his life.
I drop Alex at nursery for a few hours so Monday isn’t such a blow. He cries. I cry. William cries.
I suggest a cinema trip. A soft play venture. A lunch out. All of them will be ‘rubbish’. We stay at home.
It’s still the worst day of William’s life ever.
I put some laundry away.
We mope about.
We go and pick up Alex who’s had a great day.
I take all these as a sign the spell has broken and normality beckons.
In the corner of the living room the artificial Christmas tree is wilting.