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Post-holiday blues

We have been back in London for just under a week, and already the memories of our glorious two weeks of sloth is receding into the mists of time.

Still, some of my fondest moments are hanging in there (although for how long, who knows? Especially as my brain these days has a similar composition to that of Swiss cheese.) Such as the day at the local pool when a poo called off play - thankfully not originating from one of my children - but the image of the widespread panic caused by the rogue floater still makes me chuckle. The spectre of Jaws rising from the deep end could not have caused more of a poolside flurry.

Then there was the moment when the Small(er) One started to talk in sentences - a moment that has been long overdue considering that she experienced her second birthday in April - swiftly followed by the sudden ability to jump, stand on one leg, blow bubbles in her juice and descend stairs using her feet rather than her head. Unfortunately, these landmarks have also been accompanied by the development of an overly strong opinion on personal style (which does not mesh with mine), mainly involving complicated clothing that needs ironing (her range of self-proclaimed 'Princess' dresses, all of which have numerous ruffles and frilly bits that are hell to steam iron into a presentable form), sandals whatever the weather and somewhat peplexingly, Firstborn's bright pink bikini worn OVER the 'princess' dress. Very, very strange.

Firstborn was busy with her cousin for the majority of the two weeks, so much so that we hardly saw them except when they wanted feeding (they figured out how to raid the freezer for ice-cream on their own, so it was only when they needed a savoury fix that they came a-calling). During their brief sojourns into the adult world, I was treated to some wonderful outpourings of imagination. Apparently, in order to find a wife, Alpha Male had to travel a long, long way and underwent all kinds of hardships (big mountains, dragons, traffic wardens) along the way. Finally he came to a far away place with a pink castle and there I was, the most beautiful of them all (this is before stretch marks and crow's feet, obviously). Alpha Male and I fell in love on first sight and we immediately got married and lived happily ever after. And, announced Firstborn proudly, "I was a twinkle in Daddy's eye!" Sweet. I guess I have another eight to ten years before I have to deliver the Big 'the real truth about the birds and the bees' Talk.

My favorite memory of the holiday is the Small(er) One running amok at Heathrow airport, racing off in the direction of baggage reclaim in a puce-faced rage over something or other, her nappy slipping slowly down her chubby thights, over the knees and finally around her ankles. At which point she stopped, looked down with distain and kicked the offending item to one side (much to the dismay of the woman who then promptly stepped on it). Then, with barely a beat to spare, she resumed her tantrum in spectacular style. The child is such a pro.

Anyway, back to reality. Sigh...


sarah said…
A diaper-flinging tantrum at Heathrow AND speaking in entire sentences! Small(er) one's had a busy and impressive couple of weeks!
Manhattan Mama said…
Fabulous tantrum story - love the step, kick, toss of the nappy.
Emily said…
The bikini over the outfit description really made me laugh. I am going through the tantrums stage. P.A.I.N.F.U.L!

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