Saturday saw J head off for a stag do, leaving me with the two little darlings to contain…I mean, dote on. Whenever one of us is left in charge of them both, we tell them it’s going to be a “Mummy/Daddy (delete as appropriate), boy child and girl child adventure” in order to make it seem more exciting, and to try and divert attention from the fact we’re outnumbered. So our adventures started at the park, after dropping daddy at his train, this generally entails pushing the girl on the swing until your arms feel like they’ll drop off, whilst trying to make sure that the boy doesn’t leap off anything too high. Once my arms were totally numb, we went off to the shops and then home for a snack, before heading out for a walk.
As I prepared food in the kitchen, I could hear the usual squabbles going on, and the usual shrieks of protest from the girl child. Then the boy child was crying. Then the girl was crying. I headed into the fray to be faced with a bleeding boy and a panicked girl. “She threw My Little Pony house at me!!!” shrieked the boy pointing an accusing finger. So she had, and in the proceedings managed to cut the boy’s head open with the Pony castle. Daddy had been gone for less than three hours and one of them was bleeding. Not good. However “magic cream” (Savlon), a cuddle and a plaster heals all, and within a few minutes they were both happily tucking into crackers and looking forward to a walk.
Wellies on and off we go.
“How much longer do we have to be out for?” the boy asks, dragging his heels behind.
“We are not turning around whilst still in sight of the house”.
The boy turns and stares at the house, literally yards away, “Awwwww”.
Bribes of chocolates and banana coaxed them on further though, and we managed to at least get out of sight of the house, before I gave in to his nagging and we headed home.
Later on we headed out again, to give apples to our neighbours’ ponies. Despite the kids moaning about how tired they were ALL afternoon, the miraculous effect of being accompanied by an 8 year old and a 6 year old, meant they had plenty of energy to hide in bushes, play in cow troughs, climb hay bales and generally get covered head to foot in mud. A good time was had by all…perhaps with the exception of mummy, who can only count to three to get a child out of a rhododendron bush so many times before losing her cool.
After a rushed tea, bedtime arrived at last, and rather surprisingly both were almost angelic and fell asleep as hoped during the, almost nightly, Peter Rabbit recital. Strictly was on, wine was poured, I was happy. Especially after Danny Mac’s Cha Cha Cha. I watched it twice.