On my phone I have a very adorable picture of my two kids dressed up as a lion & a cat. It makes me smile everyday and they were very excited about dressing up because kids either are happy to dress up or they’re not, there’s not really an in-between, is there?
So, I was looking at it today and had a nightmarish flashback to a particularly horrific dressing up incident when I was little;
We were going on holiday to a Butlins type place with some other families, for one reason or another my parents were meeting us there (they may have given us a loaf of bread and told us to keep walking until we find the sea-side).
I work full-time, which is more out of necessity than choice. Being completely honest I would not work at all unless I completely had to. People may say ‘but wouldn’t you get bored?’ and to them I say ‘Hell No!’. I could quite happily be a lady of leisure, I could very easily find things to occupy my mind and my time, ah the possibilities…opps, sorry, got a little lost in daydreaming there.
On the run up to this Bank Holiday we did not have anything planned, other than the usual children ferrying business, and I was really looking forward to it.
However…Saturday rolled around; husband did the ‘Dad’s Taxi’ bit in the morning (I pretty much refuse to drive on a weekend, on account that I have to drive ‘cross country’ Monday to Thursday for work (I may exaggerate, but only slightly)) and we ended up doing the usual of having to fob the kids off ‘just while we do this…’ and ‘let me just sort that…’, I think we all ended the day a little peeved and hadn’t really achieved anything.