Lockdown Week 5 (Thurs)

THURSDAY

This morning there’s a bit of a shouting and a lot of door slamming. A water glass gets broken and the eight-year-old is in tears. They all decide they hate each other.

Navigating my way through this emotional turmoil, I eventually get to the bottom of it. It seems the 15-year-old has an ulterior motive for the daily dog walks. A boy called Dom.

The way I understand it, the 15-year-old cancelled a pre-arranged meeting during yesterday’s walk. The eight-year-old kept asking who this mystery friend was, so the 12-year-old spilled the beans, just to shut him up. She swore him to secrecy, but the 15-year-old was livid. 

This morning he asks at the breakfast table whether Dom likes Satchmo. He claims he didn’t know I was in the room - this is when it all explodes.

It turns out that the boy called Dom lives at the far end of the cul-de-sac, and she and Satchmo have been meeting him for ‘flirty chats’ (the 12-year-old's phrase) by the big lime tree.

This is alarming for several reasons, but she tells me that he’s in her year at school and he's sensible about social distancing. I know she takes the risks seriously; I trust her. 

I ask whether his parents are okay about this? She tells me they’re called David and Patrick, both around the same age as me – maybe a bit younger. And yes, they’re cool with it. I hesitate for a second to process all this, before the eight-year-old chimes in with ‘they’re both men, mummy’.

Yes, I think I’ve worked that bit out for myself, thanks.