Shoes higgledy-piggledy across the entrance, as the toddler searched for a pair with optimum flingy-ness.
The kitchen counter: dummy, water bottle, tissues and the 56 cooking implements he managed to nick as I wrestled him into his jacket.
I work from home and Mr P&P does the morning nursery run, so it befalls me to clean up in the quiet after the chaos. I grumble sometimes, about the towels, the dirty clothes, the half-eaten bananas that impinge on what is supposed to be work time.
Hours later, when I take a break from work and wander through the flat, I still find traces of my boy. A plastic spoon clacks under my slipper. I look at the clock and think - he must be having lunch now. Hope he’s okay, hope he’s having fun. A book forgotten on the kitchen counter reminds me of what I have to look forward to once he’s back home.