Putty!

"Brillant weather today," said Mum pulling the covers off the bed. "I'm stripping the beds before we go out!"
"I know," I replied miserably, running to the bathroom. It was hard not to know, she'd woken me up with her daft plan to take us to the seaside. Humiliation! I was 16. Past the bucket & spade!

"Go get Sammy up," she caroled, moving into a daft dance around the bed. "He's your son - as you keep on telling me."
"I know that!" I said moving towards the door, I was worried slightly he was so quiet. Not like other babies, he hardly ever cried. He was always playing with things. He kept doing things. The cot was empty. I stared at the crisp white cot sheet and the duvet with teddies all over it. I pulled it back. No Sammy. No soft smile. No large blue eyes. "Where is he?"
"I don't know..." began Mum, "Haven't heard or seen him today."
"It's past ten o'clock," I wailed out loud, "You should have told me..."

"Stop shifting the blame," she replied coldly, "He's prolly got out somehow, he's clever, go look for him."
I was panicking, my whole self shook, my fingers weren't working, I slammed on a dressing gown and ran out of the room to check out the other bedrooms. Each one yeilded no baby. He was 11 months old for goodness sake, where could he hide?
"Sammy, Sammy," I called out anxiously, "Come on baby, come on out!"

No answer. I checked out the bathroom. A clue. A pair of pj bottoms left on the mat.
I took the stairs three at a time. My heart had begun to thud. Had someone stole in and taken my baby. Because I was only 16. Some people thought I shouldn't have had him.
I flung open the door to the lounge. Looked at the back of the sofa. No baby.

I flung open the door to the dining room. He wasn't under the table. The room was empty.
I found myself in the quiet kitchen. Everything in it's place. It was eery. I shook my head, tried to think. Where could a baby go?
An answer presented itself: out the catflap.
I puahed open the catflap and looked out. Sammy turned around. Put his face through the opening, and laughed back at me.

"Muum," he said. "Muum."
"Come on through," I said, wondering if he'd make it back. He really was a well rounded baby. Should I push him back and open the door?
Sammy pulled back, and suddenly a small kitten was flung through the opening and he pushed it to me. It was ginger and white. Terribly scraggy and frightened.

"Putty!" Sammy said delighted.
"Pussy!" I said less than delighted. "Sammy stay there, and I'll open the door." I picked up the kitten, and gave it to Mum who looked shocked and amused. "Wait, wait..."
I pushed over the door and picked up a very dirty Sammy less his pj bottoms, and with a moustashe of mud. He'd been trying out the local cuisine.
Mum was stroking the kitten, "Wonder if he has an owner?"

"Don't start Mum," I wailed, "You have enough mouths to feed. Money doesn't go far enough." Some days I feel like I'm older than she is. I had to finish school when I had Sammy, and I'd not been strong enough to go back. i feared what other people would have said. Mum just didn't seem to care about their opinions. She said it was not worth the bother.

"If he hasn't I'll take him in." She went on, as if I hadn't said anything. "He'll be company and Sammy can see him grow."
"Putty!" agreed Sammy enthusiastically. "Putty!"
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