Millport

Millport Bike & Buggy“What shall we do today?” Simon asks.  He asks this same question every Saturday.  We rarely have anything organised in advance.  17 months is an awkward age.  Not a baby, but not really into planned activities as yet.  Basically, pretty unimpressed with most of the things we do. Except running around the park.  He loves that always. “Let’s go to Millport!  Your friends took their toddlers in those buggy things attached to bikes.  Yes, let’s do that.” I had my reservations but it made a change from the park.  So an hour later we were on the ferry. The girls had told me where to hire the bikes and buggies from so we hopped on the bus and arrived at the shop. We were given bikes and a little buggy to pop Rory in.  This is where it all starts to fall apart.  He did not like his mode of transport at all.  People were sipping their morning coffee and watching on as I tried to wedge Rory in to the buggy shrieking “It’ll be so much fun darling.  Just let me pop you in the seat an then we will be off.” “Mamaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaa” Rory screams in my face whist shaking his head.  I fish out a stale rich tea biscuit from my bad and the lady from the shop comes out with some bubbles (the kids kind, not a glass of prosecco more’s the pity).  It gives me a second to fasten him in, pull down the shield and Simon sets off in front pulling Rory behind him.   Rory realises what we have done.  He is furious.  The first 2 miles of the cycle are a shambles. Rory is screaming in a high pitched voice, trying to launch the remainder of his rich tea out the buggy in disgust. I’m smiling and nodding to people who stare after the toddler equivalent of a mobile air horn.  Simon pulls over, just as he’s stopped crying.  I’m screaming, “why the fuck are you stopping just as he’s stopped crying?  KEEP MOVING” And then I see Simon’s face.  He’s scarlet.  “Seriously Karen,  he’s too heavy.  And all the bags are in there too.  You’ll need to carry some stuff on your bike.  This is ridiculous”. After some redistribution of weight we headed off.  After 15 minutes he pulls over again. “Oh God, what now?” “I think something’s wrong” Says Simon. “He doesn’t look right.  Check on him”.  I have a look.  “He’s asleep.  He’s just slumped forward because the thingy can’t recline.  He’ll be fine”.  “No, I think he’s passed out.  Maybe it’s the excitement.  Make sure he’s o.k?” I go in to adjust him back a little and he wakes up. Screams in my face and so it continues. Admittedly it did get easier after the first half of the journey.  He stopped crying, we had a picnic, the boys played in the sand, and it didn’t rain!  I’d definitely do it again as long as the weather was kind. Back to the park next week though.  Think it’s time for one of those warm outdoor splash suits though.  Brrrrrrrrrr .

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Singing

“Baa baa black sheep have you any……” You know the drill.  Little did I know that not only would I have to sing this specific tune to Rory to gain permission to brush his teeth, but now I need to sing almost EVERY BLOODY THING I DO! Now he will not allow me to change his nappy (nap nap) unless I am singing “the wheels on the bus go round and round”.  I have gone to extraordinary lengths in terms of creative licence on that bus, and now we have several animals on board to eek it out a bit. “The birdies on the bus go tweet tweet tweet .  Tweet tweet tweet tweet” etc etc.  I kid you not, I actually shaved my legs whilst vocalising the action to the tune of “God Save the Queen” I mean where does it end?  It certainly doesn’t end with Shaggy.  “They call me Mr Boombastic” was used to hang out the washing and as for making a cup of tea! Well that can only be achieved whilst giving a running commentary alongside “Alice the camel”.  I actually feel like I sing my way through the day.  It’s more worrying when Rory is at home and I’m singing “Mummy put the potatoes in the bag” whilst in Tesco as startled shoppers look on.
I think I definitely need to up my game and get some more creative tunes so the go.  After all “Stop.  Wait a minute.  Mummy puts some prosecco in it” isn’t an ideal tune as you wander round the aisles.  But there are only so many tunes I can think up in a day.  I’m exhausted.  It’s just a phase though.  Surely.  Isn’t it?…