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Hi all!

Sorry for the delay in posting... I know that one of the things expected from a blogger is freshness of contents and consistency. Try to explain this to a 22 month old that has decided to catch a stomach bug and start puking and pooping all over my writer's life.....
Poor little G. I didn't know a little tummy could produce so much runny poo at once. If it had any resale value, by now I'd be hosting my own chat show with Oprah begging to appear on it.
But seriously, it's been a worrying week. Gabriel has refused food for 4 days straight, lost weight and gave me some sleepless nights. All is good now though, and thanks to my italian cooking he has picked up all the weight he had lost.

I want to share with you something quite funny that happened in this past week.
You all need to know that my little one has a new friend that lives in our cleaning cupboard.
No, it's not anything vaguely resembling the "Amityville Horror". It's our Miele vacuum cleaner.
I mean.... Gabriel is slightly obsessed with it.
He is also fond of brooms, mops and dusting-cloths and before you assume: NO, I AM NOT AN OCD FREAK OBSESSED WITH CLEANING THE HOUSE!!!
I do what I have to in order to keep our little home tidy and clean, and this usually involves messing around with all the above equipment, but it's not like I have a broom stuck up my butt or anything...
We even encouraged this whim of his by buying him one of those miniature vacuum cleaners for kids, but to no avail, as the real thing always proves to be a major pull for our son and poor 'Henry The Hoover' now lies forgotten somewhere around the house, waiting, with rest of Gabriel's toys, to make me trip and kill me.
Ever since Gabriel could sit on his own, every time he saw me using the hoover around the house, Gabriel would DEMAND to ride it whilst I pulled him around. At first I thought it would be fun! Kind of joining my cleaning-the-house time with his playing time.... Unfortunately he was not meant to be a one hit wonder.
Now you try to vacuum your house with a 15Kg monster strapped to your vacuum cleaner.....
Also, Gabriel loves the thing moving, so, don't you think you can take your time hoovering around, you gotta keep it moving....
Basically, at the end of the vacuuming session, my vacuum cleaner would be one inch from annihilation, I would be two inches from a stroke and Gabriel, well, he would just want to do it all again.
It's almost like having the fitness instructor from hell, that yells at you as soon as you slow down.
I'm telling you, now that he knows where I store the damn thing, sometimes he would appear dragging the hoover behind him with an expression on his face that says:" Can we do it again?", in spite of the fact that we had already vacuumed the whole house that very morning.....
My floors have never been so clean. If I carry on like this, my carpets will be thread-bare by Christmas and I will be dead.
Gabriel then found out that, by opening the upper flap of the machine, he could pull out all sorts of 'interesting' pieces: different attachments for the hoover-head, filtre-cartridges and dust bags....
Our little Miele vacuum cleaner was proving to be an inexhaustible source of fun. Why the hell does a hoover have to be so fun? I mean, whoever designs these things must keep in mind children like mine.... Make it boring..... Make it scary..... I don't know, just don't make it as appealing as Mary Poppins' bag for goodness' sake.
Then the unthinkable happened.
Just as Gabriel was coming out of the nasty stomach bug he had caught, one evening, after dinner, as we waved goodbye to Mickey Mouse on TV and made our way to the bedroom, he kicked off the mother of all tantrums.
I mean, serious drama.
He insisted in opening the cleaning cupboard to get his friend out, I insisted in trying to bribe him with teddy bears and bedtime-routine-appropriate toys whilst keeping one hand on the cupboard door.
No chance. Gabriel was standing outside the cleaning cupboard, trying to pry it open, looking at me with utter despair on his little face.
How do I even resist the sight of this performance it's beyond me. I must be some sort of Baby Jane. Crazy ass sadistic bitch. Just don't mention the hoover at this point ok?
Anyway, as it was now approaching 22.00 hours, I decided to give in to his request and got the hoover out of the cupboard. I just wanted him to stop screaming.
We got into the bedroom and, after plugging the appliance to the power socket, we proceeded to vacuum the floor around the bed until Gabriel seemed satisfied.
He then turned the thing off, I unplugged it, he wound up the cable and, when I thought he was ready to get into bed, he became evident to me what he really wanted to do.
He wanted to take Mr. Vacuum to bed too.
No amount of reasoning would work.
"But darling, don't you want to take Teddy? Or Iggle Piggle? Or Peppa Pig? Or even one of the cats although they are not allowed on to the bed, or in fact into our bedroom?".
My ears couldn't take it anymore, my patience was hanging by a thread so I gave in.
And there we were: me lying on one side cuddling Gabriel to sleep and him, in turn, hugging our hoover.
He was asleep within ten minutes.
I shared this story with my mum the very next morning, she found it very amusing.
"Thank God he doesn't want to take a chainsaw to bed...." she simply remarked.
Quite right.
How lucky.


Q


Note To Self:
Do not EVER buy a chainsaw, a lawnmower or a pony. This last one simply because our bed is too small.