So as the title suggests, this was pretty much my morning. Mondays are never easy, I was knackered from Ruby too many times on boobie and my weekend of fun and frolics. So I came up with a cunning plan to wear an energetic 18 month old out by a frosty morning walk. I carefully planned this by leaving the house at around 1030 am, thinking we could be out for an hour (he has little legs) walk for a while, then play out the front on his little red bike to ensure I got home in time for This Morning on ITV +1 whilst he slept!
Never EVER make plans with children, as they rarely play ball. Ever hopeful me, I ventured out with Ruby just fed on boobie in the baby carrier, set out across the fields, enticing small child with “Oh look at that birdie”, “Did you hear that cow?”, “Wow what’s that?” (at a pile of rustly leaves-its does it for me to be fair!). One not at all arsed child, wades through the not so muddy field until we reach the now very muddy, squelchy field in our trusty wellies and he starts to slow.
“Hurry up you little bugger” I think to myself, remembering that my husband assured me last week they walked the same way with child number one and child number two happily walked all two miles. If he can do it for daddy I thought, he can bloody well do it for me! NOPE. He walks half way across field one of two in his little Thomas wellies and starts to cry as the mud sticks to his boots. He looks a little wobbly so I held his hand and encouraged him and tried to distract him from the muddy wellies.
With more mud attached this his wellies now like iron fillings to a magnet (wasn’t that always a fun science lesson at school?) he freaks out, screams and starts trying to shake his boot off. Fuck sake, I bend down whilst carrying small one who now wakes up screaming after being flung about in the carrier to try to keep sweet child of mine’s wellies on. Now they are both crying, in the middle of a field, not even 10 minutes from home.
We abandon mummies well thought out plan and head towards home, dragging muddy boot boy across the field to the not so muddy field. All is not lost I tell myself! I still have the red bike up my sleeve…hmmm a ride around the close on that will certainly wear him out, plus I have the cold weather on my side. I can do this.
So we reach the garage, I show muddy welly boy the red bike that he usually rides on, “Lets go on this?” I say and point at the red bike in the middle of the garage. But no, muddy welly boot boy spies the new white balance bike (new to him but really a hand me down from a cousin) in the corner. His eyes light up, mine fill with horror as I’m aware he is too small for this bike as the seat has not been lowered yet. Still ever hopeful me tries it for size! Fuck sake again I mutter, yep he is too small!
WAHHHHA WAHHHHA WAHHHA, muddy boot boy, oh sweet child of mine, doesn’t give in, he kicks the now stupid red bike to the ground and pulls at the nice ‘new’ balance bike! I try as I might to explain (to an 18 month old, why bother!) that we need to wait for daddy to lower the seat and instead I pick up the red bike to again try.
Not a chance, he is distraught crying for all to see and hear (very bloody loudly) setting off Ruby again who clearly wants more boobie! So we give up and go inside, to find Ruby’s done an almighty poo and Paw Patrol is on!!! WHOOP DEE DOO!
Needless to say I did not watch This Morning, because the little bugger didn’t nap till 3pm!
Oh the glitter, that’s another story, check my Twitter.