Weekend of Treats

What a lovely sunny weekend, even up here in the Frozen North!

The Minx. In her natural habitat

Normally we’d have nipped off and gone camping, but… both Maxi and Midi Minx had birthday parties to go to, and I have a knitting craft fair that I’m woefully understocked for. So, nothing for it but to get the paddling pools out. Yep, pools plural. The plan was to fill one then let the minxes merrily transfer the water from that to the other. And water the plants while they were at it. (Finally, after 3 weeks, we have 15 little courgettes germinating! Out of 35 planted. The potatoes think they’re triffids. And the cats think that the brussels sprouts, broccoli and pea seedlings were planted to keep their bellies warm. Grrrrr)

Maxi: “Half an hour you’ve been at it, Midi – pump faster!”
Mini: “Loser”

Meanwhile I sat, knitted like fury, and laughed. Out of the splashing zone. And to prolong the fun, The Boss insisted that they inflate the paddling pools themselves…

Now Mini Minx is 2, I’m no longer a sunblock Nazi, covering every square centimetre of minx skin in thick white gloop. We get so little sun that I’m more worried about Vitamin D deficiency than sunburn. But our handy wee UV monitor said it was level 5 before 11am, so out came the sunscreen. You can tell we’re multi-parents – we now buy it in trigger guns so we can chase after rapidly escaping naked minxes and spray them head to foot, like in a spray paint station. And luckily their UV sunsuits still fitted, so it made for a lot less minx to plaster. And boy, did they need it – The Boss is now known as Daddy The Loser after burning his back and baldy head with an hour in the sun, constructing a cat-proof cage for our seedling vegetables. You’d have thought he’d have learnt after I went a delicate salmon shade of pink a few weekends ago. Or maybe it was karma from his gleefully braying ‘Loser!’ at me too often? (Remember ‘loser’ is our codeword for sunburn victim).

I think the girls lasted nearly 2 hours before they needed more calories – crisps and hot chocolate milk, to give them some salt and some heat. Drinking hot chocolate after a splash in the sun, wow, it felt like being on summer holiday! Screams of joy (Mini doesn’t get to paddle very often) mingled with screams of glee (Midi catching Maxi square in the face with a bucket of grassy water) and screams of anger (Maxi).

I’m surprised they lasted so long – the night before, Maxi and Midi had been out dancing screaming and racing around at the local disco in the community hall for an hour after dinner (luxury treat dinner from the fish and chip van!). Normally I’d need at least a few days’ notice and thinking time before letting the girls do something like that, but I guess the sun got to me – I heard about it and on a whim decided to let them go, all in the space of a few minutes. The only way to get them fed beforehand was to get The Boss to nip down to the fish & chip van. Ah, ok, you’ve seen through me: to justify treat dinner I had to let the girls go to the disco 😀

haircut

Rapunzel, Rapunzel: it’s scissors or hairbrush, young lady – you choose!

Anyway, I had to haul Maxi out from queening it over her sisters in ‘her’ paddling pool for her biggest treat of the weekend: her first ever haircut. Yes – EVER. She’s now 6 and her thick, golden hair goes down her back, past her bum, and a few inches past. Just like every mother of a long-haired daughter, I got fed up threatening: “Scissors or hairbrush?!” every morning, as Maxi complained about the pain of getting rid of the tugs. So after I got more purple hairdye applied, my hairdresser made a fuss of Maxi and cut her hair to about elbow-length. Like a silly, overly-proud mummy, I took photos to mark the event and kept a 6-inch long lock of her baby-blonde hair tips. All 3 staff at the salon made a big deal of my little girl and she thoroughly enjoyed every minute.

On Sunday, Midi went to her party chaperoned by the The Boss, while I dropped off Maxi at her party and took Mini for a mummy-daughter lunch at Scribbles. I don’t think we’ve ever gone out like this, just us, without at least another minx or The Boss in tow. It was lovely! She delicately and thoughtfully nibbled through her Happy Face pizza while I topped up my caffeine and Beef Chilli Melt levels, and chatted throughout. We blethered about colours, her sisters, whether Midi was behaving or not, whether Daddy was a loser or not (sunburn) and her cats. After merrily polishing off a milkshake and a cup of water (together. Simultaneously. Through 2 straws. Crazy child), she was ready to hit the few shops we had to go to, “to dance-dance!” to the in-store muzak. She reminds me a lot of Tyres from Spaced, raving to the pelican crossing beeps:

Talking of loonies, I think the sun’s gone to a few people’s heads. In Elgin today I watched one wee boy on a powerful motorbike, dressed in jeans and a tee-shirt, with his anorexic girlfriend clinging on to him, dressed in camisole and knickers (well, they were too short to be shorts, surely?!). They were both wearing helmets, but if they came off at the speed he was riding at, they’d become mere smears in the road. Maybe the helmets were there to keep their teeth within a small area, to aid dental record identification? Ahhhhh, must have been aircrew!

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