My son Harvey might only have been 9 months old, but boy could he make a racket!
‘I’m so sorry,’ I said to my sister Claire, 40, as Harvey screamed the place down for the umpteenth time that day.
Me, Harvey and his little sister Kayla, 23 months, had travelled from our home in Louth, Lincolnshire, the day before to stay at Claire’s in Sheffield. My husband Darren, 46, was joining us the next day.
Our mum Pam was having her 50th birthday bash at a local pub the next day, and we were all supposed to be going to that.
But for the last few hours, Harvey had barely stopped screaming, particularly when I turned the bedroom light on.
‘Looks like chickenpox,’ Claire said, pointing to a familiar red…