Boot fairs

I have been doing a few boot fairs over the last few months. more to fill time at the weekends than anything else. Kieron came to a couple with me when he was little. My closest friend and I would set up the stall, with Kieron in his buggy, waiting for him to get bored and fractious. We would take it in turns to push him around to ease his boredom, with my daughter and my friend's daughter also helping.
Kieron would struggle to get out of his buggy and unfortunately he had the escapology powers of Houdini and always managed to wriggle free of the buggy straps and stand up back to front in the buggy. Bribes were introduced in the shape of a book or small toy to try to get half an hours peace. They didn't work. So back to the car, baby blanket over my shoulder and boob out hoping to get him to sleep with an extra feed.
As Kieron got older, sometimes we wandered round a boot fair, me to collect vintage china, Kieron to collect rubbish. Matchbox cars with missing tyres, Transformers with a missing limb, dinosaurs and jungle animals. As long as it looked unloved, Kieron wanted it. Deals would be done. I would buy the toy, if Kieron would water the garden or do a bit of dusting for me. Diplomacy ruled the day. Kieron always seemed to desire something that looked grubby, germ-laden or just plain junk. Trying to dissuade him without upsetting the stall holder was in itself an art form. Unfortunately this diplomacy didn't quite register with Kieron. If I picked up a 'got to have' piece of china, Kieron always commented along the lines of " not MORE old plates mum".
At today's boot fair, a woman I knew who had a daughter at the same time as I had Kieron came over. I hadn't seen her to speak to in a couple of years. "How's Kieron doing?" was her query. "He died" I said.