I have tried to learn from last night and I have stopped work clearing Aunt's many many effects to spend the evening with MasterB. I can't say it's going terribly well; he did play with the dangly toy for a few minutes, but he declined to come with me to the laundry to check on the nth load of washing I have put in the machine since arriving early yesterday afternoon. Right now he is curled up asleep on Aunt's chair having spent large parts of the day on top of the kitchen cabinets.
Aah, you might be thinking. Aargh, is what I am thinking. Baulked of play and attention last night, he decided the day should begin at four in the morning. Have I mentioned he can be very vocal? This was a rising crescendo of wails.
He had a special dispensation to be here while Aunt was ill. Quite what his status is now I don't know, but I am pretty sure complaints from residents in flats neighbouring the guest room would revoke those rights if they still stand.
Which is why his brattishness was rewarded by a long walk around the building with me, barefoot and pyjamaed, bleary eyed and reluctant in his bouncy wake. But even that didn't serve, and by half past five, I was desperate. I took him to Aunt's flat, which is on the second floor whereas the guest room is on the ground floor, and where the windows command a good view if the local terrain.
Outside, yesterday evening, he in his harness, me in a jumper, we had watched a fox running silently by the river some twenty yards from where we stood.
He was happy enough to be in the flat, so I left. A couple of wails, so I returned, but he didn't want to come with me, so I left him there and went back to a deep and undisturbed sleep.
So, now I am trying to decide whether to leave him up here on his own when I go to bed and hope and pray he doesn't cry in the night.