Last weekend, amidst the glorious Spring sunshine, I found myself having a picnic on a small, cigarette butt strewn, scrubby patch of grass, adjacent to an A road, a major traffic light intersection and the Job Centre.
I was getting a lot of odd looks from passers-by, mainly because 200 yards down the road (and within a visible sight line) was a large, gloriously appointed, rather beautiful park.
So why wasn't I in there?
Well let me tell you this (in case you don't already know).
With a toddler in tow, a single step can seem like a hundred miles.
With a tired toddler in tow, a single step can seem like a thousand miles.
With a tired HUNGRY toddler in tow, a single step can seem a hundred-thousand miles.
We had managed to exit the Supermarket with our 'picnic' but he was clutching a large punnet of strawberries (which he would not relinquish) and the lid kept coming off so he kept dropping them (and howling). He refused to be picked up, refused to hold my hand, refused to walk properly and thus was being sort of dragged by his shirt sleeve along the side of a rather busy main road with lorries tearing past every few seconds emitting a noise not unlike a mating fox.
His brother was asking to be carried (all 5 years of him) and doing that incessant 5 year old (going on 15) whinge about how 'it's not fair, life's not fair, the fact I can't eat an entire chocolate swiss roll RIGHT now isn't fair and even more NOT FAIR is the fact that I have to move my legs EVER as I should not EVER have to walk down this road. EVER. When can I have that Swiss Ross? Carry me, carry me, carry me.....my legs won't move properly'. Which is ironic really because when he was in the Supermarket 2 minutes previous, he wouldn't stop moving his legs - at top speed up and down aisles, diving under clothing rails, tunneling through displays of 'boobies' (or bras as you and I would call them) and scaling displays of discount tea bags.
And thus I came to be sat, exhausted, outside the Job Centre, gazing at the park and thinking 'it's just not worth it'.
During a heated debate about the merits of excessive Swiss Roll eating, I took my eye off the toddler for a brief period. I knew he was sat beside me so how much trouble could he actually be causing?
Well lets just say that when I turned back the entire punnet of (bruised) strawberries had gone. Including the green leafy bits on the top. He'd left the lid though.
If every journey start with a single step, I wish I'd never bloody started this one.
I was getting a lot of odd looks from passers-by, mainly because 200 yards down the road (and within a visible sight line) was a large, gloriously appointed, rather beautiful park.
So why wasn't I in there?
Well let me tell you this (in case you don't already know).
With a toddler in tow, a single step can seem like a hundred miles.
With a tired toddler in tow, a single step can seem like a thousand miles.
With a tired HUNGRY toddler in tow, a single step can seem a hundred-thousand miles.
We had managed to exit the Supermarket with our 'picnic' but he was clutching a large punnet of strawberries (which he would not relinquish) and the lid kept coming off so he kept dropping them (and howling). He refused to be picked up, refused to hold my hand, refused to walk properly and thus was being sort of dragged by his shirt sleeve along the side of a rather busy main road with lorries tearing past every few seconds emitting a noise not unlike a mating fox.
His brother was asking to be carried (all 5 years of him) and doing that incessant 5 year old (going on 15) whinge about how 'it's not fair, life's not fair, the fact I can't eat an entire chocolate swiss roll RIGHT now isn't fair and even more NOT FAIR is the fact that I have to move my legs EVER as I should not EVER have to walk down this road. EVER. When can I have that Swiss Ross? Carry me, carry me, carry me.....my legs won't move properly'. Which is ironic really because when he was in the Supermarket 2 minutes previous, he wouldn't stop moving his legs - at top speed up and down aisles, diving under clothing rails, tunneling through displays of 'boobies' (or bras as you and I would call them) and scaling displays of discount tea bags.
And thus I came to be sat, exhausted, outside the Job Centre, gazing at the park and thinking 'it's just not worth it'.
During a heated debate about the merits of excessive Swiss Roll eating, I took my eye off the toddler for a brief period. I knew he was sat beside me so how much trouble could he actually be causing?
Well lets just say that when I turned back the entire punnet of (bruised) strawberries had gone. Including the green leafy bits on the top. He'd left the lid though.
If every journey start with a single step, I wish I'd never bloody started this one.
Oh dear! I can just imagine the looks. At least you gave them s'thing to talk about!
ReplyDeleteHugs,
Sue xx
Oh thank you, I needed that blog. First time I've smiled today AND felt slightly smug (sorry!) that I have just (marginally) escaped those days. Thanks for the funnys.
ReplyDeleteMy kids call bras 'boobies' too! Must be local to this area?!
ReplyDeleteThey don't just CALL them boobies - they shout BOOBIES BOOBIES BOOBIES at every opportunity and then collapse laughing. On one occasion the older one shouted 'MUMMY HAS GIANT BOOBIES' in the middle of the street. And my mum was there.
ReplyDeleteWhat have I done to deserve this!?
I have done something similar on the hardshoulder of the M3 - not sure if it's strictly legal, but needs must.
ReplyDeleteLove the blog, good luck with the award!
MrShev
Hey Mr Shev! Just had a look at your blog too - I was LOL!!! Stiff competition indeed! Good luck too - maybe we can share the vouchers ;).
ReplyDeletexxx
I love your blog, have nothing else to say really. Please keep being honest and funny ;)
ReplyDelete