My feet ache but my eyes are smiling. I’m writing this on Sunday night, sat on the train back home watching Elma’s toes out of the corner of my eye as she snoozes in the buggy. Kitty is doing her very best to consume her body weight in sweet things before home and the usual guidelines come back into force; and H is sipping a nice cold beer; well deserved after three days of wrangling small children and a buggy around London.
It’s turned into a bit of a Birthday Weekend tradition, a family expedition to London while I go to Britmums and H takes the girls on an adventure, and then we all spend Sunday together before collapsing onto the train for home.
There are so many stories to tell from the weekend; of the very great pleasure of meeting up with so many lovely blog friends, and putting real faces and real voices to their words and pictures (incidentally, you know how on the Internet you think of everyone as about your height, or possibly sitting down? It turns out they aren’t!); of a cab ride with a fabulously stereotypical London cabbie; of adventures recounted by a very excited three year old, and explained by a string of iPhone pictures; and of smiles and giggles and scamperings, and tired feet, and memories.
But for a little snapshot, a little moment of childhood adventures, we have to look to the park.
Regent’s Park has the very great advantage of being right next to Marylebone Station, or perhaps it’s the other way round. Whatever the answer it was perfect on a gorgeous Friday afternoon for a little picnic lunch and a chance to let the girls run off steam after the train ride south.
We ate under the shade of a little apple tree, played ‘tick’ (tig) in a sea of daisies that evidenced both past and current fertilisation by the resident geese, and then Kitty and H went off to feed the crumbs to the ducks.
And where Kitty goes, there too goes Elma, trotting along as fast as she knows how in every effort not to be left behind.
It was a tiny moment in a wonderful weekend, but it must have been one the girls enjoyed; I met up with them in the park on Saturday evening as they came back from an afternoon at London Zoo, and as we walked along by the water’s edge, with Kitty’s warm hand slipped into mine, she told me about the tigers and the penguins and the butterflies, and the birds of prey, and the big bird that nearly flapped Daddy on the head, and I asked;
“So which was your favourite of all of the animals today?”
“Ummm – the DUCKS!”
So there you have it, there’s just something about feeding ducks leftover pretzel that will always capture the heart of a three year old.