The summer holidays are upon us. We look forward to it, we meticulously plan days out, we want to create memories for our little darlings so they can go back to school in September with fantastic tales of these trips to tell their friends. You have good intentions.
You take your child to the park. You’re hot, you’re frazzled, and you want to scream. Your child is fed up by this point, there is usually something that doesn’t please them (no swings free, or the queue for the slide is too long). Then they need the toilet, but what do you do with the dog and the picnic bag? These situations bring out the best in us, they make us adapt. You tie the dog to the fence outside the public loos, next to the buggy with the picnic bag. The dog will protect it. When you’ve finished toileting, you come out to the dog and buggy only to find out the dog’s protected the picnic food so well, he’s eaten it.
You feed the ducks, your little one screams and cries because he wanted that mouldy bread for himself, and the birds are actually freaking him out. Still, you carry on, keep calm and carry on, it’s your mantra.
Your child gets sand in their shoe, they cry, they have sand on their hands (mixed with sun cream) which doesn’t make their sandwich taste good, they cry. You possibly manage around an hour at the park, after the fourth or fifth bout of crying you give up and go home.
The weather is beautiful, there is a paddling pool in the garden, and where is your child? That’s right; they’re sitting indoors watching television, while you clear up the five billion pieces of paper cuttings from a failed attempt at being crafty.
The weeks go on, they’re bored they’re hungry; you’re pulling your hair out. All you can think about it a holiday abroad, without your kids. You deserve it, surely?
