We are housebound. Not only because the weather outside is the miserableist sort of wet and dreary and only those with no other option would venture to poke a welly-booted toe into the elements but because we have the pox. Well to be more specific, Kitty has the chickenpox. I’ve already had it (and still got the scars to prove it), and Elma is currently spot free, but the net result is the same; quarantine.
I don’t think I’d quite realised how much our days rotate around going for a walk or going to the play park until the doctor pronounced the words I already knew we’d be hearing, and our front gate metaphorically clanged shut for the next week or so. I’m just very grateful that we restocked the craft box with coloured card and googly eyes at the weekend; so we’re all set for some domestic fun.
And until we get the all clear and/or the sun decides to push aside the gloom and put in an appearance, and incidentally I know which one I’ve got my money on happening first, we’ve got all the vitamin D from a stunningly gorgeous afternoon on Tuesday to see us through.
Our play park is at the top of the village, tucked away behind the houses and running into the allotments and then open fields. On a windy day it can be blisteringly cold but on a calm day it’s a real sun trap, helped no end by the nice black bouncy rubber in the toddler park.
Amazingly we were the only people there, so I may perhaps perchance have done a little clambering myself with the big camera to try to capture Miss Kitty in her element.
She’s so confident on the climbing frames now, my fearless big little girl, and she just loves to hide at the top of the slide and then jump up to shout “boo!”
Kitty’s concentration face, complete with stuck out tongue – her father in flowery miniature!
It’s the first day this spring that we’ve gone out without our coats and it felt so very … flexible after a winter, and autumn, and most of last summer bundled up in jumpers, scarves, hats and waterproofs. Maybe there should be a poll of international gymnasts or the Cirque du Solei to find out what percentage hail from warmer climes because I suspect it was rather an achievement that my Michelin man styled toddler could meander in a straight line some days.
Oh I’m so looking forward to long summer days; picnics and BBQ and teaching another pair of tiny feet about the joys of grass between your bare toes, making stories in the clouds, and (most importantly) learning to love the sand in your sandwiches.
As for the owner of those tiny toes, she snoozed in her pram and woke up to watch the sunlight send sparkles running around the rim as it bounced off the mirror on the bottom of her hanging turtle, and tried very hard to kick her way out of the swaddle of mama-knits.
Soon, soon we’ll be out of our haze of calamine lotion and spot checks, and that roundabout will be calling!