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My wife swanned off to a spa with her pals (to be fair, they’d had to cancel their original trip when I got Covid) and so I had the kids on my own all day. And it wasn’t a disaster. And no foxes were harmed.
Somehow I got the balance of the day pretty spot on (though maybe not nutritionally speaking). There was some iPad and TV time, but then we went up to the rec to play football and then have a cycle around. Ernie cried when his shots missed the (massive) goal, but then persevere on the skateboard ramp (with no skateboard) and managed to run up the curve and pull himself on to the ledge after a few attempts. I carried his bike home on my shoulders and managed to twat myself in the mouth with one of the handles. But apart from the blood and tears it was a successful morning.
I had put some potatoes in the oven before we left and they were ready when we got home and had the lunch of champions.
Then we headed over to the next village along for their Mayday celebrations. There was a fancy dress competition for dogs (sadly we didn’t enter Wolfie) and a bouncy castle and a merry go round, plus a stall where you could win tat by chucking ping pong balls into fish bowls (you got a prize even if you failed, making it at £4 a go, a very expensive shop). The kids had ice cream and candy floss and then had another go on the ping pong ball game because they now wished they’d chosen silly string as their prize. I told them that we could probably just go home and buy loads of silly string for £4 online, but they wanted the silly string and even put up their own money to get it. It turns out, looking at Amazon that £4 wouldn’t even buy one can, but if you buy in bulk it becomes closer to £1 a can. I think the silly string at the fair was quite a cheap version though. They got about six good squirts out of it.
They were really happy though. They are wont to say that they had experienced the worst day ever, even with just a minor set back. But they actually said that they’d had fun today. And I’d got through it in one piece and only one self-inflicted smack in the mouth.
We came home, watched a film, and some dinner and I had them showered and one of them in bed by the time Catie got home. I was just drying Phoebe’s hair. Catie was super relaxed and happy and it wasn’t until I lay down on Phoebe’s beanbag that I realised how knackered I was. I had enjoyed myself too. Can having kids actually sometimes be fun?
