1.  Pushing Boundaries

2.  Pushing In

3.  Pushy Mother

A Very Grim Weather Forecast.  Wet. Really, Really, Wet. But clearing up Later On.  We decided our planned Bird Park trip could go ahead, but we would need to leave early. The Man helped us get out.  0930, in our macs just to go from the house to the car, double parked outside.  The house phone rang. The Wednesday Mum.  She forgot. We’re picking up another family and splitting them between us.  OK. We drove round and round looking for the right road.  And found a Post Lady to help. We found the right house.  Wednesday Mum gave us Best Friend to take, so she could take the Mother and two daughters in the other family.  Off we went.   Pouring with rain. The road we needed closed with miles and miles of diversions. And Son 1 aged 4y 10m and Best Friend giggling away as they yelled “Poo Poo Pants!”  and “Wee Wee Head!”  at each other. Son 2 aged 22m sat in his seat yelling “Bart!” (= fart) and laughing his head off.  I will remember not to be disappointed if this is as good as conversation in our 75% male household gets from now on. 

The Bird Park. Soft Play, on a hideously wet day in the summer holidays.  Every table full.  Wet macs, jackets and kagoules over the back of every chair.  Son 1 and Best Friend ran off, I plopped Son 2 in the baby area and found a table. I put our macs and bags on it, went to play with Son 1 and still had to fend off an older woman who snuck on the one seat I hadn’t baggsed.   The others took a while coming.  Son 1 and I had a good play. He stood on top of the jets, all his fine, long, blond hair blown vertically upwards. With his tee shirt full of air and a great delighted smile on his face.  We played with the balls, we climbed, we went down slides.  Son 1 was a pain. He spent the morning playing  a Fierce Game.  Growling and roaring at everyone. Eventually he fell out with Best Friend.  He roared, Best Friend lashed out. He cried.  So all three of us went to play on the Big Uns equipment together.  

And then we all went outside.  In our macs, the rain drumming down, no-one else out. Son 1 dropped his Knobbly Bobbly ice lolly.  I gave him 85p and told him to go back in and buy another one. He managed.  Amazing what motivation can do.  We saw owls, and otters. Son 2 just said “Fish.”  “Fish.” “Fish,” as we wound our way down to the farm area. He studied the fish - great fat koi - for as long as we’d let him.  We looked at the rabbits and the guinea pigs. Outside we fed rabbits and sheep with goat food. Son 1 was letting big sheep lap the pellets off his hands; Son 2 was still just a bit scared. There was a Daddy, Mummy and Baby donkey. Son 1 and I wondered if The Man would let us have a baby donkey.  Son 2 hung on the wire sides of the hen houses.  At penguin feeding time the other Wednesday MOther took her two boys back in. Not us. Son 1 sat on the side of the penguin pool trying to get picked to feed them. Son 2 cried with tiredness and pressed his face in to mine.  When it came to choosing the children, Son 1 didn’t get a look in. “Just get down,” I said, giving him a nudge over. Inside the penguin pen, he turned to me. “Did they say it’s all right?”  ”Yes it’s all right,” I said. “Did they say so?”  How well that child knows me. The keeper passed him and told him to come along, olonking a bucket of fish down beside him.  Son 1 and his new friends hurled them into the pool.   Next to Son 2 and me, two children behind the wall stood with their hands up.  We went round the pool to watch Son 1.  “Pin Gin” said Son 2.

1.  Happy Father’s Day

2.  A Family Day Out

3.  The Servant

Man I was wiped out after yesterday, celebrating Nanna’s Grand Old Age from 0830 till gone 11pm. I forgot to say, she loved the cartoon fireman mushroom Son 1 aged 4y 8m chose for her. Kitch. A language shared by the elderly and under-fives.  We really thought we were in for a lie-in, but Son 2 aged 21 m was up and roaring at 6am.  The Man went.  At 0730, when I went down to see them, sitting together on the big chair watching The Wiggles, I said “Happy Father’s Day.”  He’d forgotten. “I’d have made you get up if I’d realised.”  A silent and invisible licked finger wrote a “1″ in the air. 

The Office was at a huge environmental event. Cycle trails, hearty walking,  pond-dipping, willow-weaving, that sort of thing.  I’d said I’d go, and The Man said it was the sort of Family Thing he didn’t mind doing for Father’s Day.  Son 1 packed his golf kit, and wee headed on out. Son 2 fell asleep straightaway, Son 1 hung on until a few minutes before we arrived. We chatted to my colleagues, and went to look around. We got as far as Face Painting And Smoothie Making.  Son 1 was a pirate,. The moustache, caterpillar eyebrow and eyepatch we have seen many times before. But the fake cheek slash was a new touch. Wax-based, red blood running from it, like something off the Casualty set.   We set off round the trail and the boys were murderous.  We split into teams and played “Spot the butterflies.” They came alive. The behaviour switched, instantly. The Man and Son 1 beat me and Son 2 10 - 4.  Ah. Not hungry, tired, or hot, then. Just bored.

There were bees as well as butterflies, and dragonflies, and crickets. Foxgloves, cowslips, a lily pond. All in a scorching day, the sun baking down on the trail.  We took an hour to get to the first mile marker, and an hour back again.  Son 1 spent well over an hour in the Wildlife People’s tent, making a Father’s Day card with a butterfly on it and colouring face marks with felt tip. Son 2 tipped up all the sticker shapes, and I took him away. He had an owl mask. “Owl. Owl.”  Which meant: ” I would like to stand back on that chair and colour my owl like Son 1.”  Eventually I tempted him away with “Would you like some cake?” and we went for ice cream. The Man and Son 1 were a full half hour behind us, because the face mask had to be coloured perfectly. “Didn’t you try to get him away?” “About a thousand times.”  They played golf, and Son 1 had a quick game of pirates with a big boy in the playground.   As we left, Son 1 said “Can I have a servant?” “You’ve got a servant,” I said. “Daddy is your servant, he’s just not very good at it and I keep having to do it instead.”  “No,” insisted Son 1. “A servant. Something we buy. From the shop.”  “You mean a souvenir?”  “Yes.”  “No you can’t. You had too much yesterday.” = 2 Wiggles Activity packs, and a Disney Golf set. Back home I googled the Wiggles.  Bad News.  Liking Anthony is not original.  Good News. I do not need to be concerned about the “Spending Some Quiet Time With Dorothy,” Do-Not-Disturb signs left on the back of the theatre seats.

1.  Goat Bait

2.  Candlemass

3.  Brothers In Arms

The Man left at 3am on a Business Trip, so we collected Nanna and headed for The Bird Park.  Son 2 aged 16m couldn’t get into the Baby Area fast enough.  Ball Pool.  Jet Bits.  Sitting over one of the holes so the remaining air streams blew even stronger.  The thin, four-inch wisps of his anyhow pre-haircut fringe blown up vertical.   He waved at Nanna. “Eh-yo.”  He concentrated as he threw balls overboard.  He got down.  We crawled up and around.  Son 1 aged 4y 3m was cross.  Growling.  Clawing his hands.  Pushing me away.  He wanted his Best Friend.  Only his Best Friend understands his game.  I tried to get us all playing together and might have succeeded at times.  He had a great time when Son 2 was sitting on the jets and throwing balls down at him.  He liked it when we followed him over the Big Children’s Stuff.  Son 2 slithered on his stomach and went down the baby slide on his own.  He learned to go down steps the same way today.  We went to see the otters and the owls.  Son 2 was in his reins - he loves walking, we’re hoping that having him in them early will mean he accepts them later.  When we know we’ll need them.  We looked at the Guinea Pigs.  £12 each.  Son 1 and I looked at each other.  If they’d sold hutches we’d've taken two.  We fed the goats, Son 2 managing to hold the food so the goats licked it from his hands, giggling his head every time their tongues shot out over his fingers.  The goats were standing in a quagmire, and everytime they leapt up their hooves spattered us.  Slathered in mud and goat spit, we washed our hands and made for the penguins.

We went early (for us) because it was the Family Tea Service at The Church and I felt we should go.  Son 2 didn’t wake up between car, house and street, and stayed asleep till we were at the bottom of the church steps.   Son 1 was exhausted, but will fortunately do anything if promised a comic, so trudged down like a trooper.  Numbers were few.  The theme was “light.”  The student priest put everyone under a tablecloth to show how Dark Things Were When God Forsook.  “And then Simeon saw a little baby just like this one (Son 2, possibly about 15 months too old for the role), and said ‘here is the light that will save the world.’”   We went back to our pews.  “Is Son 2 Jesus?” asked Son 1.  We sang “Shine Jesus Shine,” the words on a screen at the front.  My eyes are dim, the light was poor.  I so liked the idea of Kindly Brightness that I googled “Shine Jesus Shine, lyrics” when I got back.  Ah.

And then they provided tea.  Vegetable Bake, sausages, pizza, squash and cake.  Brilliant.  We zigzagged home across the main street - closed to traffic while they dig it up, Son 1 liked leading us from one side to the other.  We bought a Shaun The Sheep comic.  It was late and we were all whacked.  The boys went in the bath.  I insisted on washing their hair to remove goat saliva and hoof flecks.  I washed Son 2’s. Then I washed Son 1’s, singing him his lullaby to keep him calm.  Seeing him lying back on Mummy’s arm, being sung to, destroyed Son 2.  He cried, stood up, grabbed the arm holding Son 1 and sat his little bare bottom down on Son 1’s face, sinking him under the water. Then he stamped his foot on his ear and slid off.

1.   Larks

2.   Wild Mutt

3.   Penguins

Another disturbed night - Son 1 aged 4y 3m this time, arriving in the Big Bed, kicking The Man out and keeping me awake for 2 hours.  It is wonderful being so loved by a small boy who wants only to snug up, cuddle and stroke my eyebrows, but he heat-seeks and then pummels, wriggles, tugs and grabs to position his Parent for maximum comfort.  He does it all while he’s stone asleep.  And I am not.  Another late start.  I wanted a Family Day Out.  Just the four of us, after 10 days of friends and family.  The Man was keen on a beach, away from freezing blasts of wind.  Or leaving just enough for a kite.   Son 1 didn’t want to go to the beach.  “Why not?” “Because I have to wash my hair when I go to the beach.”  “Only when you have sand fights.  Where do you want to go?” “To the Bird Park.”  A comedy half hour followed, in which The Man tried to persuade him to go to The Beach.

We went to the Bird Park.  Son 2 aged 15m played in the Ball Pool and toddler zone.  He loved sitting on the air jets, his breath blown away, his wispy fringe vertical, throwing balls overboard.  He flopped in the balls, he switched the jets on.  He followed Son 1 around the Under-5 climbing area, laughing as we sent him down the slide, happy and determined to copy his brother.  Son 1 was Wild Mutt, growling.  And Upgrade.  And Four Arms (I misread that one on the Top Trumps cards.   I thought it said Four Bums.)  The Man took him off round the more advanced gear.  We swapped boys and I chased Son 1 and he chased me.  I climbed and slid and scrambled and clambered.  “Animal Box time,” said Son 1, and at last I got a coffee.

After lunch we played again.  When it was time to move on I asked Son 2 “Would you like to go and see the birds and animals?” and he resolutely toddled off towards his Pram.  “There are owls and parrots and penguins and otters,” I said. “What would you like to see?” ”Raaaargggh,” he said.  Ah.  No lions here, Oh Dear.   We have had three misses in a row at the Penguin Pond.  Small children are allowed to feed the penguins.  Son 1 had a whole bucket of fish to himself one gloomy termtime afternoon when he was 2.  Recently however we’ve lucked out. First, we went in school holidays and there were too many children and Son 1 didn’t get picked.  Then they were cleaning the pool and not doing public feeding.  Then I muddled up the times, and we got there too late.  This time Son 1 got picked and excitedly took off his coat and got on with his task.  Except when I made him stop so I could take pictures.  Which was quite often.

1. The Look After Shop

2. Fur And Feathers

3. Fish and Chicks

The Man left at 0330 on a Business Trip.  A crisp, clear, cloudless day.  Son 1 aged 4y 2m wanted to go to the Bird Park.  En route we passed some Boarding Kennels.  “It’s the Look After Shop,” said Son 1.  “For dogs and cats and birds and mice and guinea pigs.” We picked up Nanna.  Son 1 and Son 2 aged 14m played in the toddler area.  Son wanted to play in the Ball Pool; Son 1 on the climbing frame, his Pirate Ship.  I have resolved to play together as a threesome wherever possible, so Son 2 and I joned Son 1 on the Ship.  Son 2 chatted and waved and Arowed-ed.  Son 1 ran away. Son 2 loved it.  A wall up to his nose?  Up went the leg to try to climb.  He sobbed in fury when I picked him up during his attempt to walk across the rope bridge.  “So what if my feet are so small they fall through each hole in the net… leave me here PLEASE and I’ll work it out.”

By early afternoon, both were exhausted, but didn’t want to leave.  Son 1 lay down in the ball pool.  Son 2 refused to go in his Pram.  Plank Boy.  “If you go in your pram, I’ll take you to see some owls and penguins and parrots,” I said softly.  Son 2 let me buckle him up.  “What do you say to an owl?” I said. “Ooooo,” he said.  At the Owls, I took him out so he could see them better.  He stared and pointed.  And then refused to go back in the Pram.  “I’ll take you to see some rabbits if you go in your Pram,” I said.  Again, he folded at the middle and sat quietly while I strapped him in.

Son 1 fed the goats with gusto.  Well, goat food really, but it was the first time he’s been casually confident in feeding them.  Like always, I fed the big goats to distract them so he could feed the babies.  This time though he enjoyed himself so much he didn’t care what size he ended up with.  When our bags were finished I picked up discarded goat food out of the long grass so he could keep feeding them.  He danced around me waiting for each pellet.  Son 2 fed the babies, but kept trying to eat the goat food himself.  We fed a Black Sheep.  Did you know Black Sheep have Black Tongues?  We missed the penguin feeding time, but we watched the otters.  They had chicks and fish and hearts and quail.