The wee man is in for a treat this weekend. Not only are two of his Grandparents visiting (babysitting for me) but he will experience the joy that is fireworks for the first time. Every Bonfire Night weekend there is an annual get together of a large portion of my family. 12 or so family members and various other plus ones, including The Chancellor, pile into a house, get drunk and watch a dazzling display of gunpowder and smoke. The wiz bangs are generally accompanied by ooohs and ahhhhs and woooooooos. If you don't know the family it would all look totally chaotic and very very scary but it is generally entertaining for lots of different reasons.
We're not sure how the wee man will cope with the loads bangs and screeches. He hasn't experienced anything yet on the decibel level that rivals fireworks, so I'm intrigued by his reaction. About a month ago I went for an asthma review and had to demonstrate how I used my inhalers. They gave me a prototype to use which had a whistle on the end of it. It did to be honest make a horrible noise and it caused the wee man to roll his bottom lip over and burst into tears. I tried this a few times and each time got the same reaction. Poor guy. So if he had this reaction to a small whistle then God knows what he will do with fireworks. Knowing the wee man he will probably crawl off and try and eat them.
At last year's festive extravaganza The Chancellor was heavily pregnant and ready to pop. How a year has come round already is beyond me but it has and I will be saying the same thing next year and the year after and the year after that until I'm dead. So tomorrow I will kick back with a few glasses of wine (The Chancellor is the designated driver) and bask in my parents being around to look after the wee man. I might just close my eyes and have an afternoon nap in a cosy armchair in peace. Joy.