It is the perfect afternoon. The sort of afternoon you daydream about from a desk in an office in a city. The low winter sun is streaming through the trees in the back-garden, distorting the sunshine flooding into the kitchen. The house is quiet – quiet!! Not a child within earshot (or sight, hurrah!) – except for the lovely gentle intelligent hum of Radio 4. I am alone in my house on a peaceful sunny afternoon for the first time... ever, I think. And yet the perfection is overcast by the sceptre of Last Night’s Events.
The Man was away, 7pm had been and gone, and lights-off was being dragged out for all its worth. Finally I made it downstairs, waded through the end-of-day carnage and sat on the sofa with a book in hand. Two minutes later, the peace was shattered by the thumping of feet – our neighbours (damned London terraced houses) galloping up and down the stairs. Ho Hum. Silence, then more galloping, louder this time. Jeez, they sounded like they were overhead. Now they sound like... they’re on my stairs. Curiosity got the better of me, off I went to investigate.
If I had walked out and bumped into the Queen, naked, doing handstands on the landing, I couldn’t have been more shocked. For there, in all his glory, standing outside my bedroom, was the Boy. Delirious with excitement, literally jumping up and down, his face splitting with joy, the words tumbling out of him: “I climbed out Mummy, I climbed out!!!”
This may not seem like such a big deal, except – it’s like Alcatraz in his room. He is zipped into a sleeping bag then lifted into a very deep, very high, cot-bed – bars still in place. As far as I was concerned, nothing short of a helicopter hoist would get him out.
So back to bed we went, his excitement slightly contagious (Reader, I engaged with him – silly bad Mummy), and I tried to get him to show me how he did it. Nothing doing. Not until I had gone back downstairs, that is. Then he was up and out again. So I took measures – sleeping bag on backwards, zip out of reach (apart from a couple of inches at the very bottom). Turns out that’s all Houdini needed – because by the time my feet had touched the bottom step, his had touched the bedroom floor.
The solution is obvious: move him to a big bed, and Get Tough. Or... you could take the lazy – and temporary - way out and sew his sleeping bag shut every time it’s used... It’s only a matter of time before he works out how to clamber without the need for lower-body movement, but until then, that sewing kit the Man swiped from a hotel to a chorus of derision from yours truly has finally found its use.
Emotional Traumas such as coming face to face with a small child who you thought you had locked away demand the comfort of a rich winter pasta. Here is an easy peasy one – so easy in fact that it “belongs” to the Man, from whom I have stolen, and bettered tweaked it.
Spicy Tuna “Bolognaise”
You need (for 2):
- Enough long pasta – spaghetti, linguine - for two
- One tin of tuna, drained (I like tuna steaks in brine, but it’s your call)
- One tin of tomatoes (plum or chopped)
- An onion, chopped
- Oil, for frying
- Clove of garlic, chopped or crushed
- A red chilli / half a tsp of chilli flakes*
- Two tbsp of capers*
- About a dozen or so black olives, pitted and chopped*
- Small bunch of parsley, chopped.
Fry the chopped onion in the oil, until soft (about 7 minutes).
If you’re using fresh chilli, add it now, and leave to fry for a minute or so.
Add the tin of tuna and the garlic, and stir to mix.
Leave for a couple of minutes, then add the tomatoes, capers, chopped olives, and chilli flakes (if using). Fill the empty tomato tin with water and add about a third to the pan.
Bring to the boil, then reduce heat, and cover, leaving to simmer for 10 mins or so.
Add the chopped parsley just before serving over pasta**.
(* Little taste buds don’t always appreciate these ingredients. So if you’re planning on sharing with the terrorist toddler in your life, you can either leave 'em out, or decide “bugger it”, and eat all the sauce yourself. I know which one I opt for.)
(**If you’re super organised, you’ll have made the pasta at the start of this whole exercise or while the onion is cooking. If you’re me, you’ll have made the sauce, poured yourself a glass of wine, and settled down with yesterday’s papers, forgetting all about the pasta until you go to pour the sauce over... an empty plate. Still, it’s v delish on its own.)
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