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We all started to relax a bit today, apart from Ernie who is so high-maintainance, the big baby.
In the afternoon we went to the hotel’s small playground and we put Ernie in one of the wheel along fire engines and Phoebe got on the top and Catie pushed them around on the long grass (not easy) for a good ten minutes. I think this photo sums up my family quite well, my wife, the powerhouse driving us all, my daughter, carefree and doing things her own way and my son, seriously thinking that he is driving and keeping his eye on the road to make sure he doesn’t let anyone down. He’s even got food stains down his vest like a real lorry driver.
Other families arrived as the afternoon progressed and there were attempts to play together, some more successful than others, but it’s good to see that all kids are essentially the same. One boy opened the door of the Wendy house and accidentally banged Phoebe in the head. His mum told him to say sorry, but he point-blank refused. He sat for ten minutes in a sulk as his mum explained that he just had to say sorry, whilst acknowledging it was an accident so it wasn’t even his fault. But like a slightly more mature President Trump his pride forbade it. Phoebe even had the cheek to say, “All he has to do is say sorry and it’ll be over.†We pointed out the numerous occasions on which she had similarly refused to budge. And I can still remember the times when I’d done something naughty, like punched a toddler and my mum had told me to say sorry and I had steadfastly remained tight-lipped. It’s easy to remember, as at the time of the said events I was actually 28 years old, not 3 like you had imagined.
Finally he said sorry and the curse was lifted and we were all back to playing happily. That was ten minutes of play time he’d wasted.
Of course soon it would be Phoebe’s turn to apologise for a similar accidental bump. She did it immediately, but shouted it angrily and then stormed off in a huff at the indignity.
Apologising is a liberating force, but our natural instincts are to see it as weakness.
More acting skills required as I cheered her up by chasing her around the playground as a monster, that morphed into a dinosaur and then, at her suggestion, a naughty cow (quite hard to pull off) and a baddie scarecrow. I have never had to act so hard in all my life.
We did try and go and see something of the island we’re on (where are we? Even I am not sure) but when we tried to book a cab, they were all busy and we thought, screw it. We can sight see when the kids are old enough to appreciate it. For now, Ernie has his driving job to think about.
Later, after a bit too much free wine at dinner (we’re slipping far back in the race to make our all-inclusive payment worth it) I had to carry my sleeping daughter back to the room. She’s pretty big now and hard to pick up and even harder to carry, but having her relatively safe, slumbering in my arms (if you ignore the fact I was pissed and could have dropped her at any time) is a hard feeling to beat. She woke up a bit by the time we were back at the room, but went straight down again.
We didn’t last much longer. The heady combination of child-care and alcoholic excess means we’re getting pretty tired.
But we’re having fun and it feels like a holiday now.
I may be on holiday, but I am still working hard to bring you the best possible line-ups for the new series of RHLSTP
Today we’ve added Alex Horne from Taskmaster and the Horne Section to the 24th September recording and Terry Hall (from off of the Specials) to the 19th November (sadly sold out, but please put your name down on the waiting list and I will RT any tickets that become available on Twitter)
And don't think I mentioned that I am doing a RHLSTP in Manchester on 5th October at the Dancehouse. Don't have a guest yet, but it's already over half full,
so book now. Hoping to do more podcasts on the road if we can make the logistics and economics work, so please come along if you're in the area.
