‘I found Keane spluttering and clutching his chest’ My four kids and I love our lazy Saturday mornings.
On 16 January this year, after my hubby, David, 34, had gone off to work, James, 11, Lucy, 10, Keane, 8, and Dawson, 2, jumped into bed with me.
‘Telly time,’ they chanted, getting cosy.
Soon, I had to get up to bath and dress Dawson. But Keane wanted me to fix his game controller.
‘It needs new batteries,’ he moaned.
‘Give me five minutes,’ I told him.
He went upstairs to play with the others.
But, minutes later, I heard him thrashing about on the landing. I ran up to find him spluttering and clutching his chest.
‘What’s going on?’ I asked him, panicking.
‘Can’t...breathe...’ Keane panted, his face turning red.…
