...yes there certainly will, and oh are we all glad to be back home after our epic tour around Holland. It was very much enjoyed by all, but - whisper it softly - it's nice to be in one place for longer than 24 hours, even if that place is rain-sodden London.
However, there is at least one positive outcome from our trip. The stifling heat on our journeying has finally prompted my otherwise spendthrift husband that perhaps - yes, just perhaps - it's time for us to part with our much loved purple czech dream of a car and update it to something that is a little newer. With air conditioning. Imagine, if you can, a tin box sitting on the motorway, stuffed with two adults, two small boys, and all the vital accessories for said occupants over the mammoth period of 1 whole week, and then bake it gently at around 35 deg C for around 4 hours a day. As Son #1 said on the many occasions he exited the vehicle, "That is one smelly car, mummy." Out of the mouths of babes...
Anyway, I promised you potty training diaries, so here goes...
August 10th 2006
Son #1 is still in Somerset with the parents, and loving it apparently. Had my first ever telephone conversation with him yesterday when we discussed the colour of the new Bob toy Mum bought him at the charity shop – yellow – and the cows on the farm – pooing. This chat was an event as previous calls have consisted of my cooing away like a woman possessed and his muttering what sounds like incomprehensible curses at the other end. His favourite way at the moment to indicate frustration is to mutter ‘Jesus!’ under his breath. Don’t know where he gets it from, I’m sure. (All the books say to ignore it but hard to do that when you’ve just had to slam the brakes on in the car because of some other driver’s mistake – isn’t it always? – and you hear ‘Jesus!’ uttered from the back seat. It’s like driving with my father…)
Potty training; don’t know. Seems churlish to ask when mum is giving me all this free time…
However, there is at least one positive outcome from our trip. The stifling heat on our journeying has finally prompted my otherwise spendthrift husband that perhaps - yes, just perhaps - it's time for us to part with our much loved purple czech dream of a car and update it to something that is a little newer. With air conditioning. Imagine, if you can, a tin box sitting on the motorway, stuffed with two adults, two small boys, and all the vital accessories for said occupants over the mammoth period of 1 whole week, and then bake it gently at around 35 deg C for around 4 hours a day. As Son #1 said on the many occasions he exited the vehicle, "That is one smelly car, mummy." Out of the mouths of babes...
Anyway, I promised you potty training diaries, so here goes...
August 10th 2006
Son #1 is still in Somerset with the parents, and loving it apparently. Had my first ever telephone conversation with him yesterday when we discussed the colour of the new Bob toy Mum bought him at the charity shop – yellow – and the cows on the farm – pooing. This chat was an event as previous calls have consisted of my cooing away like a woman possessed and his muttering what sounds like incomprehensible curses at the other end. His favourite way at the moment to indicate frustration is to mutter ‘Jesus!’ under his breath. Don’t know where he gets it from, I’m sure. (All the books say to ignore it but hard to do that when you’ve just had to slam the brakes on in the car because of some other driver’s mistake – isn’t it always? – and you hear ‘Jesus!’ uttered from the back seat. It’s like driving with my father…)
Potty training; don’t know. Seems churlish to ask when mum is giving me all this free time…
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