Its been fairly well documented that our holiday was more than a bit wrecked by the pox. But at the end of the day I’ve had 9 days with my family and it has been really quite great.
I’ve fallen in love with Fifi all over again thanks to the 5.30am starts. The great weather has afforded me the opportunity to pop her in the pushchair and go out for a walk. At 17 months she’s smart, intelligent and
incredibly bossy knows her own mind. She’s also really happy and friendly. Everyone we saw (mostly joggers at that time of the morning) got a wave and a big hello from her. She’s lovely. She’d be even lovelier if she slept later mind.
And M’laddo is still the best little boy in the world. The two days we were up in Norfolk we awesome- we were on the beach throwing stones in the sea, digging holes and sitting in them, splashing around in the sea, eating ice creams, ramming 2p’s into the two pee machines and so on and so forth. Even when we got back home, even when he was poorly and demanding to watch Toy Story constantly, he was still great. The only time he got upset was when he saw himself in the mirror and didn’t like seeing the spots.
Seeing the two of them from 5am/7.30am respectively all the way through to 7pm for a whole nine days was exhausting but also fantastic. I don’t know if I could do it every day and I have nothing but complete and utter respect for Wifey for managing it better than I could.
So as today is my first day back to work, when I was getting the boy up this morning and he was smiling at me, I had one of those moments. I suddenly realised how precious every moment with them is. I’m sure I’ll get him up in the morning a 1,000 times more but it will never be exactly the same as it was today. The moment is fleeting and passes and is therefore precious. And yes, I did get something in my eye, dappy old sentimental sod that I am.