Bouncebackability is something that kids have litres of. Or whatever unit bouncebackability is measured in.
Take a boy’s tonsils out on Monday (or get someone to do it for you) – and by Tuesday, he’s legging it around the house and garden and you’re left wondering if he really did have the op or if it was just a figment of your imagination.
But I’ve often thought that my boy has the speed gene, whose phenotypic manifestation means that unless he keeps going at 55mph or above, he will explode. All that can save him is Keanu Reeves hanging out of his bottom and then jumping into his nappy on the end of a cable in a shower of sparks. This will obviously all take place at Cape Town International Airport, once the construction work is completed.
In the meantime, the rest of the family is sick. The kitchen is awash with antibiotics and snot and Kleenex shares have single-handedly lifted the JSE by about 6% since Tuesday. Ironically, Little Mr No Tonsils is the healthiest out of the lot of us. Still – best to get this nastiness out of the way before our Southern Cape Tour, which begins in 10 days time. But that is scant consolation at the moment as I sit here sweating, shaking, sniffing and wondering where the energy to pursue a rather rapid toddler around the garden is going to come from.
My parents fly out from the UK tonight to view their new(ish) grand-daughter (who, incidentally, has never met Russell Brand). I can only hope that they are not bringing their own viruses with them.
We have more than enough to share.