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Madeline's insistent questions
and trying to convince Harry not to plunge his fruit stick
into his ear. She strapped their overflowing backpacks
onto their little bodies, stooped to pick up the crayons and
lunchbox that fell from Harry's unzipped Thomas the Tank
Engine bag, then bustled them toward the stairs.
    'It's raining,' whined Madeline.
    'Well, get up the stairs quickly then,' Sera replied
matter-of-factly.
    Harry was exhausted and stood mutely staring up at his
mum, his enormous puppy-dogs eyes pleading for her to
carry him. It was pointless to try to convince him to walk
when he was so tired, so Sera resigned herself to an extra
trip to the car and hoisted him onto her hip. She slung her
handbag over her other arm and scooped up a few shopping
bags from the boot.
    The rain was getting heavier now and the trek up the
slippery stairs was difficult with the exhausted weight of the
child against her.
    'Knock on the door,' she called to Madeline, who had
reached the top already. 'Nanna might open it for us.'
Maddy reached up, stood on her toes and hammered with
her child's fist several times.
    Sera staggered up to the top step and lifted her knee to
balance Harry's slumped body on it. Standing on one leg,
she swapped all her bags into one hand so she could jiggle
the uncooperative key in the lock. When she managed
to push the door open Madeline instantly darted inside,
causing Sera to stumble and lose her grip on the shopping,
her handbag and keys, which all fell about her feet.
    She deposited her son on the floor and as she bent
to retrieve an avocado from under the kitchen table she
caught sight of her mother-in-law's slipper-clad feet up
on the ottoman, and stuck her head into the lounge room
to say hello. A New Idea and the TV remote sat atop
the pink-and-white angora blanket on Joan's lap. The
noisy excitement of the Family Feud contestants filled the
room.
    Joan looked up over her half-specs. 'Oh, it's you. I
thought it must have been by the way the knocking was
going on and on.'
    'Well, why didn't you open the foor for us?' Sera tried
hard to keep the impatience from her voice.
    Joan's lunch dishes were still on the coffee table. She'd
had five cups of tea today, Sera counted.
    'What and risk getting wet? It's raining outside.' Joan
pressed the remote to drown out Harry's cries. 'Oh, and
your mother called.'
    Sera groaned. That was the last thing she needed right
now. Harry was in full whinge mode. He waved his arms
in the air. 'Up, up,' he demanded. The shopping would be
getting drenched in the open car boot, but nothing could
be done until Harry was calm and sorted.
    Sera carried him tired and protesting into the kitchen
to distract him with the Wiggles on the small TV/DVD.
Harry slipped his thumb into his mouth and settled his head
on Sera's shoulder, momentarily transfixed by Dorothy
and Captain Feathersword. She quietly opened a drawer,
keeping an ear tuned to the living room. Harry clung like
a needy koala to her hip. Timing was crucial. One wrong
move and the evening would blow up.
    She deftly lifted out a baby bottle with her one free
hand, filled it with milk and added a very naughty squirt
of chocolate syrup, which would be exposing Harry's baby
teeth to decay but would buy her a few more minutes of
peace. Harry watched what she was doing and, placated by
her actions, allowed himself to be deposited on a kitchen
chair while Sera made his favourite drink. She screwed the
top on slowly and quietly, and handed over the bottle as she
nervously looked in the direction of her mother-in-law.
    Harry's tired body relaxed and his eyes closed as he
eagerly sucked on the sweet milky treat. Sera realised she
had been holding her breath for the past few seconds and
let out a noiseless sigh.
    'I hope you're not giving in to that child,' came Joan's
voice. 'He's far too old for a bottle, you know.'
    Sera rolled her eyes. She'd been caught.
    'He has you around his little finger, my girl. It wasn't
like that in my day.