Double Good

Saturday 21st August and Sunday 22nd August

Day 122 & 123

When our visitors have driven away in their seven seater car, the pussy cat creeps out from under our bed where he has been hiding for the last three days. On his own retreat from little running feet on the stairs, tickled squeals, shrieks of laughter, water pistol fights and banging drums.

I sweep up under the table - scatterings of croissant flakes, blobs of cold porridge, last night’s garlic bread crumbs, a cube of roasted courgette, a pink felt tip pen.

We didn’t have children, didn’t do sticky fingered family meals, mop up spilt juice, tears or bloodied knees. Day after day, on and on through the nights for all those years.

Instead we get the chance to be aunt and uncle when it’s always summer or Christmas in their lives.

So when I ask the littlest one who is six years old, after our trip to the theme park and the whooshing water slides,

‘What was the best thing about today?’

and she says,

‘ The ice cream and helping you make the tomato tart,’

I stick my two thumbs up in the air like she does when she really, really likes something. She calls it double good.

Then I remember that this temporary tiredness can be swept away like sticky crumbs under the table but being an aunty is forever double good.