The Bhablet, as I've remarked before, is a social little boy and always has been. He does not like being left alone. Not for a single second. That, as you can imagine, is quite a big problem during the course of the day. I can't work in the kitchen but I have him crawling in at great speed, going "Maaammaa!" to announce his arrival. I might have been flattered except that both he and I know perfectly well that the real attraction in the kitchen are my shelves. He pulls down my stock of scrubbers and attacks the soaps. I eventually let him have the latter, thinking one taste of them would set him right, but he seemed to enjoy chewing the soap case.
Anyway, so this evening V had to step out for a bit. I've got a stomach bug and a little after he had left I felt the rumblings. Now, our flat is set out like this: you enter into our living-room and leading from it is a little hall across from which is the kitchen. To the right are the bathroom and the stairs to our bedroom on the mezzanine. Normally in such a case I tie The Bhablet to the leg of the divan in the living-room (to stop him from trying to follow me) and try to get back in time to stop him from howling the house down. This evening, unwilling to make him cry, and since he seemed occupied with his toys, I placed a chair at the door (to slow him down, since it wouldn't stop him) and sneaked out.
Sure enough, from behind the closed bathroom door I heard the howls as he realised that he had been basely abandoned. I heard him howl into the hall, and then I heard the howls go to a side. I hastily ran out and couldn't see him anywhere. Not in the living-room, not in the kitchen, not in the hall, not at the bottom of the stairs. You know why? Because the blessed boy had climbed halfway up the stairs, still howling, searching for his "Emm-ma".
What would you have done?
I stood there awed, watching him climb till the top. And then I ran and picked him up.
I don't know if I'm proud or upset. What I know for sure is that the trauma continues.