In balance today has been lovely, if with a bit of a fraught moment when I randomly glanced upon that funny little book I occasionally write important things in and discovered that I had 30 minutes before Her Ladyship was due to have her latest vaccinations. None of us were dressed, let alone ready to go out, but hey... I'd had to book this appointment 5 weeks in advance and had already got told off for missing one, so it was very much a case of "Octonauts, let's do this" and Kinder Egg hastily stuffed in my bag, we launched off and out.
Injections are horrid things at the best of times, but worse when you're a pre-schooler - there's total recognition of what's happening but no possibility of grown-up stiff upper lip attitude. Still, "oh look, a Kinder Egg!" seemed to distract her.
After declaring to my father in law that "the doctor did something very nasty to me", I was somewhat reassured that Her Ladyship wouldn't hesitate to tell me about anything untoward should it happen, but it reminded me of the time she told everyone in the child-minding group that I broke her arm. Not exactly the truth, but still enough to worry Social Services.
Anyhow, we filled the rest of the day with lots of fun things and at dinner (strange one-pot pasta, chicken, carrots and mushrooms in a creamy sauce - tasty, but took some convincing) she put down her cutlery, beamed and said "Thank you Mummy, you're the best best best best best Mummy ever!" (She'd obviously forgotten how I'd had to hold her for the jabs). I smiled back with an appropriate "aww, thank you" but she carried on: "Mummy, you fix things and mend things and cook and make things and are the best best best best Mummy ever!"
Now, that's enough to warm any mother's heart, isn't it...
After a slight [dramatic] pause, out came a bigger grin, flick of the hair, head cocked slightly to one side and the appropriate coy look...
"And now a thank you for me?"
.
.
.
[where would I start?!]
o_O
Injections are horrid things at the best of times, but worse when you're a pre-schooler - there's total recognition of what's happening but no possibility of grown-up stiff upper lip attitude. Still, "oh look, a Kinder Egg!" seemed to distract her.
After declaring to my father in law that "the doctor did something very nasty to me", I was somewhat reassured that Her Ladyship wouldn't hesitate to tell me about anything untoward should it happen, but it reminded me of the time she told everyone in the child-minding group that I broke her arm. Not exactly the truth, but still enough to worry Social Services.
Anyhow, we filled the rest of the day with lots of fun things and at dinner (strange one-pot pasta, chicken, carrots and mushrooms in a creamy sauce - tasty, but took some convincing) she put down her cutlery, beamed and said "Thank you Mummy, you're the best best best best best Mummy ever!" (She'd obviously forgotten how I'd had to hold her for the jabs). I smiled back with an appropriate "aww, thank you" but she carried on: "Mummy, you fix things and mend things and cook and make things and are the best best best best Mummy ever!"
Now, that's enough to warm any mother's heart, isn't it...
After a slight [dramatic] pause, out came a bigger grin, flick of the hair, head cocked slightly to one side and the appropriate coy look...
"And now a thank you for me?"
.
.
.
[where would I start?!]
o_O
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