Those days when you two lie in are always the worst. The give me a false sense of security. Sat in bed at 7.45am with a cup of tea I was fooled into thinking the whole day might be that laidback. From the moment we came downstairs this morning I hit the ground running. It was one of those days where I would never be a step ahead of you.
So here you are looking like the best of friends, and actually you have had some fantastic moments of togetherness today. At playgroup all you wanted to do was chase each other, find slugs, climb trees and run through the flower beds. Forget the toys, forget the other children. Unfortunately for your poor mummy this togetherness comes with your newly discovered power of double trouble. Creating mischief together is so much more effective.
I left to fetch a snack; you found the light switch to the aquarium and gave the fish a disco. I left to answer the phone; you reenacted Hanzel and Gretel with a trail of breadcrumbs across the living room carpet. I went to hang the washing up; later I found you cuddled up together, under my bed, with the i pad.
There was the banana bread debacle. Your mummy is no domestic goddess but she knows of a lady called Nigella who is, and she isn’t about to see 12 overripe bananas go to waste. So we tripled the recipe and my goodness did you make a mess. 6 unbeaten eggs and egg shell thrown into the flour while my back was turned. Mixture smeared across the table, down the chair leg, in my hair, over every surface in the kitchen. But hey you had fun and were very proud of your efforts.
Miss L: Mummy can you play?
Me: I’m just cleaning the kitchen
Miss L: You’re always cleaning the kitchen.
True, I thought, So why does the house still look like a bomb has hit it?
Your crowning moment was wrapping yourself in blankets, which you said were ballgowns, to pretend to be a princess and prince going the ball. I was also a prince and had to kiss your hands and welcome you. It was very funny, the first time. After the fifth rehearsal/take of this entrance scene it was less funny. I might have lost my temper a bit. I am glad you finally agreed to rehearse the ‘sleepover at the palace’ scene.
And here’s where I just found you Mr G, asleep finally, at the top of the stairs. Were you making one last call on the chatter phone? You dodged all my efforts to get you to nap and whinged and whined your way through Thursday afternoon. But you look so beautiful asleep.
Anyway this afternoon was really quite rubbish, but you know, even a bad day has edited highlights. Thanks to imperfect pages
, whose blog I was reading today, which reminded me of the joy of teasing out the little things that happen in a day.
Fancy a slice of banana bread?