Christmas is a bit of a time for feeling claustrophobic and not just because of Santa. Ho ho ho. Even if it is only a couple of days, being in all day with more or less the same people gives you a bit of cabin fever. So, on Boxing Day we ventured out for a walk in the mud. Squelch, squelch, squelch. Daughter one was, of course, not out of bed so she stayed home with her dad. Daughters two and three brought bags of stuff to do along the way, just in case just walking got a bit boring. Toddler boy dressed for the occasion in a fairy taffeta skirt, wings and some rabbit ears.
He also proceeded to bounce in every puddle in the manner of Peppa Pig so said taffeta skirt has required several runs of the rinse cycle. We went past a farm which daughters two and three think is the home of a gun-toting psycho, for some reason. So we had to keep down low and stay very quiet. This was a bit of a feat too far for toddler boy who proceeded to shout every time he encountered more mud.
We returned home to ring the out of hours doctor as daughter two had apparently had an eye infection since the day before Christmas, but had neglected to tell me until Christmas Day. So daughters two and three and I headed to the local hospital for a Lilt and some crossword quizzes until we finally got to see the doctor. She has eczema in her eye, which I was not sure was possible. Daughter two always goes in for interesting medical complaints.
Now we face new year. My partner has headed to Spain again to sort out his mum’s flat. She died earlier in the year and this has been a difficult Christmas for him as a result. He’ll be away for the new year so I’m thinking of all sorts of things to keep the children entertained. Not that they need much entertaining. They seem to be doing pretty well on their own. Daughter one is teaching daughter three the guitar and daughter two is practising singing against backing tracks. We only need to get toddler boy proficient on the tambourine and we have our own answer to The Sound of Music.