13 March 2007

I Don't Want A Hula Hoop!

A dramatic start to the day that found me ambidextrously speed dialling to secure this week’s doctor’s appointment. There’s nothing like blind panic to perk you up of a morning. Actually, I remained relatively calm when Chickie’s lips turned navy blue following his bath. It was the second time this week and I had attributed the first instance to the cold. This time he was wrapped up tighter than a baby fajita.

Prepared for a long wait, I took Chickie’s Weetabix along in one of my newly rearranged Tupperware pots and was marvelling at my illusion of the perfect ‘got-it-together’ mummy. Two minutes later, I was scooping the lot off of the floor with a wet wipe whilst the Comedian next to me kindly pointed out it was going to be my day. Oh, tee hee hee. The Doctor could find nothing obviously wrong with a now rosebud lipped Chick who sat like a statue throughout his examination.

From the Doctor’s to Flying Fortress to play with Poff and Sydders. The Singing Lady had changed her repertoire and ditched my favourite, “She’ll be Coming Round the Mountain”. To stop me sulking, I was given a hula hoop to play with but it wasn’t the same. Chickie then went on his first bouncy castle. 50p for 5 minutes. Or, in Chickie’s case, 50p for 5 seconds and to wibble wobble back to mummy screaming in terror.

His afternoon nap assured, my attention turned to domestic matters, specifically, the garden. The time is ripe for creating the adventure playground I vowed I’d never have to enable me to lounge my way through the summer sipping coca cola whilst Chickie is busy doing outdoorsy things. Excavation and some serious landscaping is crucial for my masterplan to be successful. Calls have been made, quotes are awaited.

It’s salsa tonight so must conserve the energy I’ll need to get through an evening heavy with gyration.

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