Trainspotting for Boys

Me: Grrrr.
Dylan: Mum?

The night before Dylan’s birthday party I get a call from an old school friend. Last year he brought a gazebo to Dylan's party but this year his wife suggested they bring their bouncy castle. Naturally I assume I've misheard; nobody actually owns a bouncy castle. Nick explains that a few months ago, they were looking to part with an old fridge and someone offered them the castle in exchange. Everyone should have friends like Nick and Abigail.

The week of Dylan’s birthday starts with a trip to see a stream train, Tangmere, on its way from Bristol to Bath. All boys love locomotives at some stage of their development and Dylan's granddad still does, so three generations of Stanley boys head out to a field near the railway line. The train steams through on time and Dylan is delighted. Afterwards, Dad comes back to ours for egg on toast but Holly’s been making meringues while we were out, so Dad has breakfast while Dylan and I have something much sweeter.

On Monday I walk Dylan to nursery, expecting the worst, but he knocks on the door, waves to the kids through the window, says ‘Hello’ to the girl who lets us in and then disappears off to play with the toys. He hardly even says goodbye. How things change.

Tuesday is Dylan’s birthday and there’s no shortage of presents, including his own table and chairs, a trampoline and a police car buggy. He also gets a kitchen set and his own toy vacuum cleaner, so he can be more like his daddy. Perhaps his most useful present is a Gro-Clock; it's a bedside clock that glows blue when he’s supposed to be in bed and yellow when it’s time to get up. Dylan works it out all in a matter of minutes and he hasn’t been into our room since. Fantastic.

On Wednesday we go swimming, although these days I’m a spectator. I’m sitting on the  steps watching Dylan make his way to the deep end to crash a swimming lesson. I’m not sure about this. All the other kids are staying close to their parents but Dylan’s so confident in his armbands, having me around just slows him down. At one point, he actually swims properly, with his bum in the air and his heels breaking the surface as he kicks. I’m so proud I want to cheer. After swimming, it’s home for a good long sleep, followed by an afternoon of playing in the garden with his cousin Logan. It’s a near-perfect day.

On Thursday, Dylan is treated to a rare visit from his Grandpa, who has brought him a toy train set for his birthday. Health issues have prevented Dylan from seeing his Grandpa anywhere near as much as either of them would have liked, so it’s an afternoon to be savoured, and the best place for that is soft play, where Dylan insists we all join in.

On Friday, Dylan spends the day with his Grandma while I tidy up, vacuum and mop the floors, dust the surfaces, clean the kitchen and bathrooms, wash the bath mats, iron the clothes, buy the rest of the groceries for Dylan’s party, rearrange the furniture, tidy up the garden, bake a cake (for Holly to ice) and cook homemade burgers and chips for tea. It’s a long day but the phone call about the bouncy castle makes it all worthwhile.

On Saturday it rains. I’m in the kitchen, heating the pizzas and pasties, bhajis and samosas, and I’ve completely lost track of when I put things in the oven. I’m winging it, judging everything by its appearance and taste and hoping I don't poison everyone at the party. Nick is helping, as is my sister Felicity (Auntie ‘Flea’ according to Dylan), who chops vegetables for the dips. Holly’s turned the front room into a playroom for older kids and the back room into the main party area, and both rooms have been overrun with toddlers. I'm trying not to think about it. Then I notice that Nick and Flick are missing, and I’m about to complain when I see the castle in the garden. It’s perfect. The kids are lined up along our patio windows, staring in wonder. Seizing the opportunity, I say ‘nobody’s allowed outside until this room is tidy’ but it’s already too late. The doors are open and the kids are gone.

Everyone’s tired the following morning but Tangmere is coming through again and Nick and his son Joshua want to see it so we're off. Joshua and Dylan keep each other entertained in the back of the car, the train is dead on time and there’s bacon and eggs to go around when we get home.

Finally, my boy is two years old. Somehow we survived.


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