A casual observer visiting this little corner of the Internet for the first time might conceivably be forgiven for thinking that I have recently refined my photography and now only take pictures of my children on the swings.
It’s not intentional I promise, just a happy side effect of a lot of afternoons spent at the park recently. I’ve made it a bit of a mission to try to get outside for a good part of every day this winter and we’ve been doing pretty well so far, save for a couple of days this week where the rain swept in just after lunch and even I’m not that committed to fresh air to want to go out into a torrential downpour – we went to the library instead on one day and I took my sanity into my own hands and braved soft play on the other (braving soft play, even the mini soft play, on a wet November morning with all three children by myself I’m certain should earn me some sort of medal – or perhaps just a survivors t-shirt).
But apart from the days on which only a full on dry-suit could be deemed appropriate clothing it’s been great, and it’s even more fun when H can come too – mostly I suspect because he can push the girls a lot higher and faster in the swings than I can ever manage.
He is their first choice by a country mile. Well, who are we kidding, if he’s there, he’s their only choice. And because they are one and four and therefore required by some unspoken law of childhood to choose the two swings furthest apart from one another, that generally means that they have to take it in turns to be pushed.
As Elma sailed back and forth and H turned to go down the line to Kitty I stepped into the gap and prepared to do my best, but:
“No Mummeee! No! Not Mummee! Juss Daddeee!”
Every ounce of her almost two year old self was determined that Mummy would not do and Mummy was not going to push her on the swing. It was Daddy or nothing.
And Kitty was the same; she’d rather wait for Daddy than suffer the indignity of being pushed at anything less than mach 2.
I don’t think it’s anything personal, at least I hope not, and I suspect they’ve both clever enough to have worked out that whoever accepts Mummy as a pusher isn’t going to get Daddy back!
And I’m not complaining anyway, it gives me ample opportunity to perch up on a picnic bench and have a chat to Pip curled up in the sling and take a whole series of photos that I think should probably be titled “Kitty waiting; occasionally patiently”:
Little imp! Fortunately the wind remained in its usual direction and she seemed to be having rather a lot of mischievous fun pulling as many extraordinary faces as she could manage while still holding on to her swing.
We stayed and played until it was all but dark, swinging and running and having scooter/bike races and enjoying having the park almost entirely to ourselves. It’s definitely more effort to get us all out of doors at this time of year but for all the cold fingers and masses of buttons, I think it might just be worth it. Whether I’m still saying that come February is another matter of course!