happiness Archives : Me, Annie Bee.

For my babies, a letter…

Anna — Tue, 18 Oct 2016 18:40:17 +0000

To my children. I may get uptight, I may seem sharp. I sometimes get cross. I often mutter “forfucksake” a lot under my breath. I get annoyed when you shout me at 3am because you need a wee and want company or even worse when you shout me then you’re asleep by the time I’ve dragged my tired arse to your room. I may spoil all your fun with comments like “get out of that box” “don’t pull the cat’s tail” or “stop leaping all over each other”. I might baby you by not letting you run off ahead with your friends. I may declare a need for wine on a regular basis. I may spend an afternoon wishing it were nearly your bedtime. I may sometimes wish for a holiday, just me and daddy. Or just me, I’m easy. I may seem strict when all you want to do is play. I may sometimes seem fed up or tired. I’m sorry. I spend a lot of time being climbed on and sat on, tiny, pointy elbows and knees jabbing me while you try to get comfortable. I spend a lot of time being hit in the face, sometimes it’s your frustration, sometimes it’s your eagerness to show me something terribly important. I spend a lot of time apologising to other people because you won’t share/you keep kicking/you walk into people/you don’t pay attention. I spend a lot of time listening to you tell me how unreasonable and awful I am because I won’t let you have this or do that (often after you’ve just had or done something pretty cool) I spend a lot of time hearing you shout at me for doing or making something wrong. I often hear how I am entirely responsible for you having the worst day EVER. I spend a lot of time defending myself while you laugh hysterically thinking knocking my glasses off my face is a great game.. I wish you’ll go and nap just so I can take an hour to sit quietly with a little bit of space. I feel like a terrible person for wanting that little bit of space. (Seriously though, an inch would do). I tell the other mum at school how grumpy and difficult you’ve been today because, y’know, naps are for losers. I instantly feel bad and wonder if I talk about your fantastic, hilarious and great moments so readily (these are abundant). I start to feel a bit warm on the inside and feel a tension rise when I feel like everyone is watching you shout and writhe in your buggy while I have no way of placating you. Once again I say to myself “roll on bedtime”. Believe it or not, everything I do is because I believe it’s the best for you. I may be right, I may be wrong. I want you to grow up to be well-mannered and I want you to be grateful for what you have. I want you to be nice people. I worry about how I’m bringing you up and sometimes my grumpiness is me fretting. Finally you’re both in bed, I pour a glass of wine and breathe a big sigh and I feel bad. I feel bad for every uttered swear, every sharp word, every exasperated yell. I wish you weren’t in bed so that I could give you a squishy cuddle and tell you I love you – I worry you’ll forget that. I hear you breathing gently (snoring) and I feel calm. I recall how I used to love the sound of you both breathing and snuffling in the night when you were tiny babies. I remember my heart used to feel so full of love that it could burst. I realise that now it still feels exactly the same. In fact, maybe even more love has squeezed in there. I realise that as you both get older and more independent we’re going to butt heads. You think you know better, I KNOW I know best. After a day like today it’s easy to think that my everyday is like this but as I sit here, feeling thankful you both went straight to sleep, I realise that today stands out and the fact that today stands out as such a bad day is because it’s actually a rarity. Yes We may have some shit days but by gosh kids. I love you so much, I wouldn’t change it*. I love you all the world with all my heart. Mummy *Well, maybe I’d prefer not to see you between midnight and 6.45am. Just a thought.

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Sowing the seeds…

Anna — Mon, 10 Oct 2016 10:49:40 +0000

The other day we took the children to Waitrose cafe for a treat (how terribly posh!?). As we sat, dragging the standards down, a dad and his son who looked about 11 sat at the table next to us ( I assume it was a Dad and son, it was definitely a preteen boy and his responsible adult). As I sat sipping my free coffee I overheard part of their conversation “Do you have homework this weekend?” “Yes” “Well, we’ll get it done when we get in… It’s important you work hard” “Why?” “Well if you don’t, you’ll end up with some crummy job. You don’t want to work in a shop or something crummy like that do you?” “something inaudible” “You want to go to university, you’ll have great fun”* That snippet of conversation made me sad and a little mad on a few counts and not just because the tone in the Dad’s voice made it seem like working in a shop was the worst thing this boy could ever do with his life. “You kicked a dog? Nevermind” “You work in a shop? Why you crummy little good for nothing…” I am totally for letting our children believe they can be anything they want to be . ANYTHING. They can be an astronaut, a teacher, a shop assistant, a waitress, a dental nurse. ANYTHING. We’ve just got to remind them that whatever they choose won’t make them better or worse than anyone else. It’s sad that the adult was instilling into the child that the shop assistant was only such because they didn’t try hard enough at life. If it wasn’t for the lowly shop assistant WHO WOULD SELL HIM HIS ELDERFLOWER AND POMEGRANATE JUICE EH??? The other thing that really sat uncomfortably with me was what if this boy didn’t WANT to go to university in the future? Not everyone does, but would he have the niggling feeling that he was letting his Dad down because he isn’t aspiring to greatness? Will he be considered a failure, deemed to have not worked hard enough? He is basically being told that you work hard, go to university and get a ‘good’ job or you don’t work hard and you get a ‘crummy’ job. Or. There are two very different kinds of people, hard workers and slackers. That’s not how life is. Some people work hard, have ‘menial’ jobs and earn less money. They’re happy because they have a great home and family life. Some people work hard, have great careers, earn lots of money and are terribly unhappy because they’re too busy to enjoy their life and family. Us adults need to remember that we’re also responsible for moulding the minds of our small humans. We’re responsible for making sure our children grow up nice, kind and open minded. We’re responsible for making sure our children treat EVERYONE with respect and as equals. We need to remember that throw away comments can manifest and grow in a negative way. I wanted to say to that little boy “Yes go home and do your homework, try your best at everything you do but remember, you’re just a child. It doesn’t last long so just enjoy it. And when you grow up, do whatever you want to do as long as it makes you happy. Be the best you, you can be.” *Or as my brain heard it “Son, you can either be an obnoxious twat like me or someone who serves obnoxious twats”

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Happy 18th birthday Google (other search engines are available)

Anna — Tue, 27 Sep 2016 11:09:42 +0000

One of the best inventions for any parent/new parent is the smart phone. Not because it keeps you in touch with other adults via phone calls and social media. Not because we can enforce photos of our little angels 24hrs a day on people whether they like it or not. Oh no no no, because it means that Google is right there, in your hand, night or day with all the answers you desire and some you really don’t. I try not to use Google to diagnose illness, we all know you can go from a cough to death in three easy steps if you look at the internet too hard, but I have found myself searching a variety of random things over time. Does my baby sleep enough? Does my baby sleep too much? When do babies get teeth? How to sooth colic. When do I wean? When do babies walk? When do babies talk? Define ‘neurotic’. What should a babies/toddlers/child temperature be? What should a babies/toddlers/child heart BPM be? When do free nursery hours start? Cheap flights to New York. How to tell off your child when the naughty step doesn’t work. Why does my toddler keep pushing his fist into his mouth until he gags? How to stop a toddler running away. How to teach a toddler ‘STOP’ How to lose weight. Cuvee du golfe de Saint Tropez (red) sellers UK. How to prevent tantrums. How to deal with tantrums. Should my two year old talk yet? Why does my five year old constantly talk/sing/make noises? Why are my children attention seeking when they have all my attention? Cheap flights to France. How to stop toddler pulling hair/scratching others. How to stop five year old being mean. Why is my hair falling out? Toddler keeps lying down in road, why? How to explain respect to a five year old. How to make children sleep longer. Property abroad. What to do with a child who doesn’t care about repercussions? How to tell off a toddler who doesn’t care if you shout. How to stop toddler throwing stuff. Cbeebies. How to explain to five year old why they should behave. How to stop children hanging off me/touching me without making them feel unwanted. Engagement rings (it’s good to dream) Cheap flights for one adult. How to stop toddler trying to eat stones. Weather for *current location*. Wine offers. All these questions and dilemmas, despite there being millions of search results to all my queries, only about 4 have ever been successfully resolved. It turns out Google is just like most 18 year olds, think they know it all but actually full of useless information. I jest, of course (please don’t sue me).

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Hi 1993? It’s me, you!

Anna — Tue, 20 Sep 2016 11:17:21 +0000

A friend posted this on my Facebook timeline…. “.on reflection…having lived a fun and interesting ‘couple of years’* since your teens, what 10 things would you tell/teach your 15 year old self if you could? (I imagine your 15 year old self will only listen to you) ❤ *maybe more than a couple ? x” My 15 year old self existed in a town called Hartlepool in 1993/4. 1) Drop this tie-dye/flares shit. It’s shapeless and unflattering, the ‘alternative’ thing really doesn’t suit you. Indie & Emo will be along in a few years, embrace it. Skinny jeans, monochrome and good hair is more you. Two things to remember (i) black or red hair always suits you better (ii) a fringe is never wrong. 2) You’re not fat. For serious, you think you are but you’re not. You are going to get fat in a couple of years then from 2006-8 it will drop off you’ll have a great figure (you’ll still think you’re fat though). Unfortunately you’ll get really fat again after you’ve had children. Yes you have children. Take that look off your face, we’ll talk about that in a minute. Pastry is NOT a craving you should give in to. In the meantime maybe exercise a bit. Running should do. In about 20 years running will be really cool. Stay ahead of the game! 3) Don’t be jealous of those girls from school who seem to be all that. In a couple of years they’ll have a life that completely doesn’t interest you. In 23 years you’ll wonder why you were ever jealous, some of them are grandparents already, that really wouldn’t make you happy. Also, some of them do not age well. 4) Don’t worry about fitting into a group, you don’t and you never will but that’s actually OK. Be happy and comfortable being you and, believe it or not, some people will wish they we’re more like you (try not to put your ‘majorly freaked out face’ on when they tell you-Awkward) 5) Children aren’t actually the spawn of satan. Well YOURS aren’t (others are). Yes you have children. Don’t think about it too hard just yet, you have a long while before you need to think about it.The first born is very much like you, try to remember this when you feel like you’re arguing with a wall when it is five! In 15 years this insistence that you couldn’t possibly have children because you’re too selfish and would be an utterly terrible mother will pass. Until then remain selfish, in fact I suggests you try being MORE selfish. 6) Anyone who treats you badly should be cast aside instantly. You’re going to have some self esteem issues and some people like to play on that. Be strong. They will always be sorry but they will never change. As long as they feel more powerful and superior than you they’ll continue to be a grade A c**t. You don’t need that, you’re a stronger person than you think. 7) DO NOT GET MARRIED*. Move in with him, buy a house, think it’s a love everlasting and see the relationship through but don’t get married. It will seem like the natural progression it’s just a way of trying to justify yourself and feel like you’re worth something. If you find yourself at the altar, crying and the vicar asks “do you want to take a moment” take it. Take it and run. People will be pissed off but they’ll get over it. It’s a massive pain in the arse changing all your details when you get divorced. 8) On Christmas eve 2010, you’ll get a phone call from a very old school friend. You’ll be exhausted with a new baby and breast feeding woes. She’ll be a bit drunk and very unhappy. She’ll tell you things that are making her sad, she’s very lonely. You will listen and feel sad and you’ll tell her you’re there and you’ll mean it. You’ll tell her you’ll ring on Boxing Day but exhaustion means you’ll forget. Then you’ll forget again. PLEASE take a moment, put it in your phone calendar (that’s an actual thing in the future) and call her. 9) Be true to yourself and have confidence in yourself. You don’t have to be mean but you do have to be honest. Don’t waste time with people you don’t want to be with. Don’t waste time doing things that you don’t want to do. Do what makes YOU happy because no one else is thinking about your happiness. Some people just won’t like you, don’t waste time trying to win them over, they probably aren’t worth the effort. From 2006-2008 you will be in a very strange place, you’ll be partying hard just remember to respect yourself and stay safe. 10) You will be given an ultimatum, stay in Leeds or go home. You’ll be happy in Leeds but you MUST go back. It will be your biggest regret, you’ll have a shit job at a call centre, you’ll no longer be in that art loop that you so desperately want to be in for your future career and you’ll be stuck in a silly little town but you HAVE to do it. If you don’t make the same choices I did then you might not end up as ME. Yes you MAY end up in a better place, or you may not. I wouldn’t risk it. To you, right now at 15 I may seem like a frumpy, almost 40 year old but I’m frickin’ awesome. My life is great, I’m happier than I’ve ever been before, I have an amazing man and our family is fantastic. Although you have a LOT of good times to come there will be some tough times along the way. There will be sadness and hurt that you feel like you can’t survive, lows that you feel you can’t escape. I could advise you of paths to take to avoid those things but I’m afraid you need them to become me. A couple of other things Regret the things you’ve done, not those things you haven’t done. Accountants aren’t all boring. Rum is your drink of choice, you’ll never like cider. Learn French. Curry is good. The amount of friends you have is irrelevant, it’s the quality of friend that counts. What 3 things would you tell your 15 year old self? *Before 2016

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It’s a tough job but someone has to do it. With pleasure.

Anna — Mon, 05 Sep 2016 09:17:00 +0000

The summer break is over. After a glorious week on the Cote D’Azur Rory is back at work, Aoife has just started Year 1 and it’s back to reality (booooo). There’s no other job, yes I referred to parenting as a job – If a job doesn’t get done, things go tits up and things fall apart. If parenting doesn’t get done things go tits up and things fall apart, though to be fair things generally go tits up when I’m on shift anyway. Anyway, I digress. There’s no other job where I would put up with my boss physically attacking me, screaming in my face, throwing my stuff, throwing everyone else’s stuff (I’m thinking dinner plates at the villa we rented last week) and making impossible demands. There’s certainly no other job where I would do it all for free on a 24 hr shift pattern. If most people were at work and their boss called them to the office and said Read this to me they might think Hmmm OK, this is a little odd but what the hey If the boss then stopped them mid-sentence and said NO, I need you to read these sections in a French accent, this bit sounding like a boy and this bit here like Woody from Toy Story They’d reply Heck no and start updating their CV. The CEO The President There’s only so much shit you can clean up from your toddlers back. So many headbutts you can handle. So many times your glasses can be ripped from your face or your hair can be pulled or you can be scratched. There’s only so much food you can have thrown at you or scrape from the walls or floor. There’s only so many times you can retrieve broken pieces of items you rather liked. There’s only so many times you can be summoned at 4 am to replace covers that are well within reach, or find teddies that are *right* there. There’s only so much you can handle before you ask yourself Why on earth did parenthood seem a good idea? Then I think about it and I realise there’s only so long I’ll be needed to do these things. There’s only so long a bedtime story will be required. There’s only so long a hand will need holding or a booboo need kissing. There’s only so long that I’ll be considered the fountain of all knowledge and the fixer of all things. There’s only so long a Mummy cuddle will make things better. There’s only so long that a trip to the cinema with me will seem like fun. There’s only so long they’ll want to holiday as a family. There’s only so long before they’ll feel they’re too old to need me. There’s only so long. My contract is temporary, I’ll be made redundant one day. And so I’ll remember this when I’m up to my eyes in one mess or another, when I feel like I’m just there to serve not as a human. I’ll remember that one day I’ll not be needed for anything, big or small. I’ll remember that although now I may feel insignificant sometimes, these jobs need doing and these processes need playing out and I actually AM of importance in my workplace. One day I’m going to be very sad to have retired. On a lighter note, we just spent a week in France. One evening we’d got Seth down to sleep at a reasonable time so went to sit outside. Aoife came out in her pyjamas and sat next to me. This is what it’s about. Sitting here, relaxing in the sun, enjoying the peace and chatting I tried hard not to laugh What would you like to chat about? Ummm the view? Those trees down there are lovely aren’t they? She’s perfect. Relaxing in the sun.

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“Put your troubles down, it’s time to celebrate!”

Anna — Sun, 17 Apr 2016 18:57:00 +0000

HOLIDAY! Firstly I would like to take this moment to apologise, it seems bad planning ensured that we went on holiday the exact same time as the Duke and Duchess of Cambridge, the media obviously had to decide whether to follow the holiday wardrobe of myself or Kate. They chose Kate, more fool them, so now none of you know what I wore daily. I’m sure you’ll survive. Anyway, we embarked on the joy of a family holiday. It’s such a jolly good idea isn’t it? Rory will have a week off work, we’ll head to somewhere beautiful in the South of France. It’ll be carefully selected so that there is something to cater for everyone’s needs (washing machine for me, huzzah). We’ll spend a week in absolute harmony, thoroughly enjoying each others company, never wanting it to end. The children will appreciate and enjoy all the activities we plan whilst soaking up sun, culture and a bit of red wine (It is actual law in France that every household in France should have at least one bottle of wine in it). Or not. Saturday – We had a 3am start after about 2 hrs sleep due to stress and Aoife’s random night time shouting. An overpriced breakfast at the airport had Aoife announce that she didn’t like the sausage, or the egg, or the bread. Yay. The flights I was dreading were fine and, despite our 50 minute transfer time being drastically reduced due to delays, the sprint through Schipol (including bum change for Seth) all went to plan. We were starting this holiday as winners. It was going to be a success! This would be the holiday that everyone else has! On Sunday we arose bright and early. Well, early. Aoife put on her sunglasses telling me she’s showing France “this is how I roll”. We headed to a quaint little Provencal market in a village in the hills (incidentally, this is where Aoife had her very first public meltdown a few years ago). This year Seth decided that whilst Rory and I were buying veg (and an 8 Euro melon – it wasn’t even a nice melon, it tasted more like a cucumber. As I am from Yorkshire and we’re a frugal folk (and Rory was horrified at the cost) I took one for the team and ate as much as I could muster for breakfast one day. I managed about €6 worth. Winner!) would be the optimum time to try and do a runner. He wears reins (much to the dismay of the French) but they were dropped for a nanosecond. I caught him pretty quick but my heart was in my mouth. I succeeded in not having a public meltdown and looking like a mad foreigner. He is definitely a future winger. After lunch we went for a strut around the lake. Wonderful family time. Alas, Aoife and I have a tradition whereby on the first full day of any holiday we fall out. Proper fall out. This year was because she’s not allowed to run down roads as they’re dangerous and I didn’t want her run over. I’m one of those awful Mummies who wants to protect their children. Shocking. We finally get the children to bed and Aoife decided this place had perfect acoustics for a big old shout. Lakeside strutting. I drank wine. On Monday I woke up hearing Seth shout ‘HELLO. HELLO. HELLO’ to Aoife . Aoife responds like a teenager “Hello Seth, SHHH I’m trying to sleep”. I smile smugly. A little taste of your own medicine lady! Then I realised we were all awake and I had no cause to be smug. We headed to the beach where Aoife took off her sandles “in case they get sandy” and then buried them. In the sand. Am I the only one who sees this makes no sense? After the bedtime farce of last night Aoife suggested that if she had a clock in her room she wouldn’t need to keep waking everyone up as she’d be able to see the time and the alarm would let her know when she could get up. By 7.28pm she was demanding the clock be removed as it ticked too loud. Apparently we can have it in our room and once the alarm had gone off we can go and wake her. HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAH No. I drank wine. On Tuesday we went to Cannes, this was a risky little game. Despite holidaying in the same region every year, Cannes is a place we tend to avoid for it gives the women in our family tantrums. We unite in our dislike of the town. This year I realised why! The coast of the South of France is accessed by pretty much, one straight road from St Tropez to Italy. It’s lovely and scenic but towns are long.We arrived at about 11.30am. The minute we passed the ‘Welcome to Cannes’ sign (it may not quite say that) Rory spotted a parking space next to the beach, he thought this would be a rarity and parked there so we can walk to the port bit. Alas the reason there are parking spaces a plenty is because the town is actually another 6km away. We park. Seth (who has read the Little Mermaid too much and thinks himself part merperson) spotted the beach and went nuts. We had to go to the beach so he could eat some sand and dig a hole and then we got on our merry way. Seth cried a lot of the way as it’s ALL along the beach and we weren’t letting him play. It’s also nearly lunchtime so he’s hungry and tired. We picked up a quick sandwich then set about walking the 6km back. All this in shoes designed for strolling and sitting not hiking. THIS is why we fucking hate Cannes. The icing on the cake was us ‘grown ups’ getting sunburn (my fault, I forgot our sun cream and refuse to wear the kids as it smells of ice cream and I’m worried wasps will be attracted. I’ve never seen a wasp here but I’m not willing to risk it. I’ll risk the kids, they can run faster than me) anyway, we’re there getting sunburn whilst the actual locals are wearing jumpers and coats. Seriously, it’s like 22 degrees! We’re so British. I drank wine. On Wednesday we visited St Maxime, where Seth spotted builders sand and insisted on sitting in it for a play despite the actual beach being less than 100 metres away. Aoife was leaping and inevitably fell over alerting the WHOLE of France to her plight (I worry when she cries like that, that people will think it’s something REALLY serious like I stole her rather than a booboo on her knee). A go on the merry go round and an ice cream fixed it though. Simple things. We had another night of Aoife refusing to settle, funnily enough (like at home) it coincides with Rory going for a run. Conclusive proof that exercise is bad. I drank wine. Thursday was Seth’s birthday! My baby boy is 2, I officially have no babies now just children *sob* He insisted on going outside at 7.30 am to play in the gravel. I think he thinks it’s a beach. We opted for a day at the seaside as that seems to be his favourite thing (though a day on the drive would probably suffice) and moules for lunch again wouldn’t be entirely terrible. Before we leave the house I check that everyone has everything they need. Me – “Are your sunglasses in the car?” Aoife – “Yes” We get in car. Rory – “Do you have my sunglasses in there?” Aoife – “Do you have mine too?” Me – ” REALLY? I just asked you in the house if they were in the car!” Just like being at home. Proof, if it were needed,that we could move anywhere in this whole wide world. Our life could be picked up and dropped anywhere! Aoife wanted to buy Seth a minion birthday cake. €16!!! I love my boy I really do but I’m not spending almost £16 (thank you ‘brexit’ people for the crappy exchange rate) on a Minions cake! We chose a chocolate and pear cake instead. He demolished it so I don’t think we chose badly. I drank beer then wine and wanted to cry a little. Then came Friday. The last day of our holiday, Boooooo. We spend another morning at the beach then the afternoon outside at the villa whilst trying to gather every thing together and get packing. I hate this day I really do. I feel sad because we’ve had a brilliant time and I don’t want it to end. I love having my family all together all the time. I don’t want Aoife to go back to school next week (She said we can move to France and I can teach her!). I love having my wonderful, funny, argumentative, super clever little girl with me all the time. I don’t want Seth to be bored of me once we’re home again and without sand or gravel. I don’t want it to be 3 degrees, grey and sleeting. I don’t want to step on the scales and see what a week of cheese, bread and wine has done (I can feel it). Life is always more wonderful in the sunshine and when we’re all together. The attitude to life here is better too. It’s not about stuff and things, it’s about appreciating good food, good weather & good company. And wine? Most importantly the main aim of the people here is to enjoy life and be happy. This is the life for us. I know that this is pretty much just a self indulgent holiday diary and probably is pretty boring to most but you read all the way to here so more fool you. *Winky, smiley, humour, face*

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It’s all fun and games….

Anna — Mon, 15 Feb 2016 16:07:00 +0000

It has been said on occasion that I can be quite competitive (I don’t see it myself). Rory is VERY competitive, he’s one of those people who’s really good at everything (except ice skating, he hates it because he can’t do it. I, on the other hand, am amazing at ice skating). As a result Aoife is SUPER competitive. Like ridiculously so. Everything is a competition where she has to win or be the best. Walking home from school she has to run the last few feet to the front door to win. Going downstairs for breakfast she must go first to win (I’ve pointed out many times that us letting her go first isn’t actually winning). It’s all fun and games I’m not one of those ‘everyone is a winner’ parents, we have winning and losing. We might as well prepare her for those harsh realities of life. But I do believe in good winning and losing. Aoife is both a terrible winner and a terrible loser. The worst. When she wins a game there may be a small song about winning along the lines of “I’m a winner, I’m the best, you’re a loser” and maybe a little victory jiggle. When she loses there’s stomping, growling, comments on the unfairness of the situation and sometimes even accusations of foul play. I try to explain that losing is OK as long as we’ve tried our best, upon losing a game she should declare ‘good game’ to her competitor. Maybe this will make her less smug upon winning. NOT A CHANCE. Whilst Seth napped recently we ‘enjoyed’ a family game of Dobble – I made the grave mistake of winning (I tried not to but I just did). I was shouted at for not giving her a chance to win, we were shouted at for giving her clues, I was banned from the game “I’m not playing if you continue to win. Me and Daddy will just play” I didn’t even smug win. Rory convinced Aoife that I should be allowed to join in Happy Families (a name that should probably be reassessed) Aoife was off to a flying start. She did a little ditty about having two families and combined it with a small fist pump. Then it was my turn “Aoife, do you have purple number on…..” “DON’T EVEN DARE THINK ABOUT ASKING FOR THAT ONE” “But it’s the one I need…” “DON’T DARE ASK FOR THAT ONE AGAIN” She won the game but we didn’t play again. She is like a small dictator of fun. She decides who can have fun, how they can have fun and even how to express joy at that fun. Just yesterday, making our way back from the Dales along the country roads we went over a big hill Rory could barely contain his excitement “Wooooooooooooo” “No Daddy, you say ‘Weeeeeeeeee’ when you go over a hill.” Another hill, another declaration of fun “Wooooooohooooooo” Big mistake “NO DADDY, I’VE ALREADY TOLD YOU IT’S WEEEEEEE. YOU MUST SHOUT WEEEEEEEE GOING OVER HILLS AND ON ROLLERCOASTERS AND THINGS ISN’T THAT RIGHT MUMMY?” “I’m staying out of it” Over the next hill Rory dutifully said “Weeeeeeeee” but I think we were all aware that the delight just wasn’t there. Being told how to have fun kind of saps the fun bit. Now half term is here, I have a week of playing games to look forward to, smug winning and angry losing ahead of me (I’ll let you decide from who) and I just can’t wait. WOOOOOOHOOOOOOOOOOOOO (Don’t tell Aoife I said that).

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