Last week we had a lovely trip out to Eureka with one of Mabel's favourite friends Belinda and her equally lovely Mum Jodie. Now the trip went without incident, strange since pretty much every time Jodie and I venture out together we have some sort of drama.
We have had two blood injuries from falling. On one of them we were at a sand pit where another Mum (who had obviously witnessed Mabel fall) commented, "oooh that looks sore" to which I replied, "oh no I think she just got a fright, the redness on her mouth is her teething". About 5 minutes later when I looked at her face on I realised she had a great big shiner starting. Oops, yes yes, that does look sore. We have also given them both heat rash from over exposure to the sun and almost got stranded at the bottom of a large hill walk back to the car with me fairly pregnant and very tired.
So I was amazed by the recent trip. Perhaps things were taking a turn for the better.
Turns out the drama was just delayed. And since it then occurred in Jodie's absence it leaves me worried about who is the root cause of said incidents.
The first drama happened on a very cold walk feeding the ducks at the park. Mabel was in a particularly challenging mood and after refusing to get back into the pram after a go on the swings she then twisted her body pretty much out of the straps that I had forced her back into. So I (we) compromised that she could get back out again to feed the ducks for a second time (I had no more bread but thought this a minor issue).
Keeping my word we headed back to the pond and she was fairly happy pretending to feed them and kick leaves in her wellies. I was happy to watch and supervise. Wilf was not happy to sit still in the pram getting ever colder and chose to express this with a large wail.
My explanation for why she needed to hop back into the pram so we could return to the car was met with disdain. I had nothing in the locker to negotiate with, having used up all raisin packets on some earlier incidents, probably at Eureka!
So, noticing that a steep little path went 'off road' through the bushes back to the car (a short cut) I persuaded her that we should go the 'secret way' back and that she could walk. And so I sent her up first. Minutes later I was reminded just how not 'off road' the pram was as I struggled to get it up said muddy path. Mabel, in front wearing too big wellies, started to slip.
"Keep going" I tried, keeping my voice calm
"I fell over" came the reply as she was by now pretty much trying to crawl up the hill on her hands and knees in the mud.
"Don't worry, keep going, it's just a bit of mud", slightly less calm since the pram wheels were now getting well and truly stuck in said mud and I couldn't get round to help her
"Carry?" came her cry
"The pram is just getting a bit stuck Mabes, You need to keep going.."
She obviously heard the slight panic in my voice and as such stood up from her attempt to crawl up the hill and looked back at me only to start to lose her balance and do that comedy arm roll when you try to regain it. Behind her, on the stupid secret tunnel of a path, were holly bushes.
"Wo Mabes" I shouted, not exactly sure how this was going to help.
I literally watched in slow motion, with the pram stuck in the flaming mud rendering me completely unable to save her, as she almost fell backwards into a holly bush. It was gonna literally be my first test on which child do you save.
Luckily she regained her balance and continued to plough on. I managed to dislodge the pram in my panic to move forward so could follow on until we reached the clearing of grass at the top. What was I thinking?
The second incident involved yet more mud in the form of a puddle. Lets just say we were very glad our more organised friends had wipes in their pram to help us out. She was very brave after this one. No tears (possibly because I had trouble controlling my laughter, how wrong is that), she just looked bemused. O.k maybe shocked is a more appropriate word.
So yet again I have learnt some lessons (or not).
Wilf meanwhile had a lovely time at the weekend watching bubbles with his gorgeous pal Monty (who notably is 7 months old, no difference in size that I can see. No Wilf is not bigger, it is just the angle of the camera)