Duncan was, as he was kind enough to let me know, sad and angry. He was in his bed and hiding his tear streaked face in my arms as I held him and stroked him. I was both the source of his pain and hopefully, his comfort. I had told him off sharply for running about upstairs when it was way past bedtime and the others were trying to sleep. I'd been up and down the stairs many times trying to settle him and then I just snapped, said loudly he was being a bad boy and I had hurt his feelings.
He told me that he didn't love me and that "Mummy is a bad woman." Well, if I thought it was OK to say to him...
I said I was sorry for making him sad and for shouting at him. He wasn't ready to forgive too soon. He sobbed, "Duncan hates Mummy...Duncan loves Mummy."
I acknowledged his confusion and said that I love him and that he is so sad and cross now and he will feel better later. He agreed that he would be "happy tomorrow."
He lay quietly for a while but it must have come to mind again and he burst out, "put my shoes on!"
I asked where he wanted to go. "To the airport."
How will you get there? "In the taxi. I will bring small Superman case."
Do you want to fly somewhere? "Duncan will go to Germany. Mummy will stay at home."
I did feel like laughing at his rebellion, but hugged him a bit tighter (which he likes), kissed his curls and told him he could go to Germany some day. Soon enough he lay quietly and I left him.
This morning I mentioned his planned trip and he said he wants to go with Mummy and Daddy and Lady and Thomas. When I started saying something else about our night time conversation he instructed me to drop it; "don't say it."
He's been interested in going to Germany and especially the Black Forest for a while now, ever since he started his interest in cuckoo clocks and watched films about their manufacture, often in German. I think one day we'll go there. Perhaps if we're in the country, we can call in to see the fabulous Gonzo.