…even though the sun split the heavens for our 48hr summer the entire weekend? Eh? Ah, it was all Midi’s fault.
On Saturday we planned to do a quick Elgin divide-and-conquer before letting the girls run riot in Cooper Park with their bikes. So we did: we got out early then divided into 2 groups to get specific shopping done, meet then re-split into a different group-pair, and again, and again. Incidentally, Mini’s eyesight is astounding; she spotted The Boss and her sisters from the other end of the the High Street. Yet they were wearing different clothes from when she saw them last. And my ex-aircrew hawk-eye-sight could barely distinguish them. So either she has fantastic eyesight or I’m an auld fart who needs glasses. Um…
Anyway, anyway, we got to the park. And hit the first tantrum. Mini absolutely refused to go on her little bike. Then she refused to walk in a vaguely similar direction to her sisters (Maxi speeds off on 2 wheels now, and Midi couldn’t care less how many wheels – she’ll make it go fast). She threw a strop at the prospect of going in a sling. She rolled on her back rather than hold anyone’s hand. I could guess it was going to be a long afternoon…
We caught up eventually with The Boss and the elder 2 minxes, who’d abandoned the bikes in favour of the slide. I suggested we get Mini back for a nap somehow. Just as Midi went screeching through a deep puddle. The only puddle. Now, a bit of wet isn’t going to harm anyone, even at sub 10degC temperatures, but when it’s your feet… I didn’t fancy Midi spending the next week with blisters on her feet. So we curtailed their fun and coralled them back to the car. Sheesh, that’s a long Walk of Shame from the swings to the carpark, all 3 minxes howling loudly!
We left her happily thrashing up and down, using her fleecy trousers like a wetsuit. When Mini’s hands went past purple into blue, and I could barely move from the cold, we called it quits and hauled her out. Cue a huge meltdown. And realisation of just how cold it was. I ordered The Boss to wrap her in his shell jacket (I guess the cold had stopped his brain working, or something…), crammed a struggling Mini into a sling, grabbed a ton of beach toys and picked our way back to the car. At one point I found myself carrying a 13kg Mini on one hip, a 3kg rucksack on that arm, a 23kg Midi on the other hip and kept… on… walking… like… a… Terminator. Must… stay… moving… or I’ll freeze. I guess 30 mile-long journeys a week with a 6 stone double-buggy, a steep camber, and a long hill quietly does wonders for your upper body strength.
Och, they all complained about having to go home, but quickly calmed down – the world always seems better when you have a cup of hot chocolate in your hands and your feet are finally dry!