A bit late getting up, the battery on my phone had ran out and dude doesn't come through as soon as we wakes anymore. He plays in his room. He puts the telly on and the last of grans free range eggs. He messes about but I get him to eat the bits of yolk that hasn't hit the floor. I scoff mine down, yolk not quite runny enough but still flavoursome and lovely.
At the nursery he sits down next to his groups leader without a problem. I was going to mention he hasdn't pooped for a couple of days but he looks so settled next to her I just leave, happy with my kiss and hug.
Outside its beautiful and warm. A few wispy clouds in pale blue September sky, I get out the donated headphones and walk down past the pitch then along by the burn, sucking in an earned, guilt free mini spliff. On the long pedestrian bridge, the view and beats pushes the light a little further into my broken corners. Back home, make tea, roll a cigarette then phone the law people after a couple of puffs. Expecting an answer machine I have notes at hand, they are less than useful when the voice of an older woman comes on the line. After a few emms I spit it out, no need for details. Next week, wee dude in hand I talk to a lawyer and show him my form.
Then I phone and book him a place in football training for preshcoolers.
As we file in the nursery I glimpse wee man, curled up on the floor of her feat, wrapped in nursery land. He's such a teachers pet, don't know where he got from. The nappy has gone from his drawer but nothing was said. We take a detour to the frozen food shop in the faded, neglect shut down mall. The only shop still opening there, I stick in on a credit card and we eat tonight.