You can lead a horse to water...

We are lucky enough to live in something of a paradise for kids.  There are 2 playgrounds, a tennis court, a football pitch, roads quiet enough (most of the time) for them to scoot and cycle to their heart's content.  There are no fences, so no impediments for explorers and adventurers.  I never imagined when I moved to Moscow that I would be able to open the back door and just set my sons loose, but there it is, I can.

Today, the weather is glorious; not too hot (around 22degC), almost cloudless skies, a light breeze.  School is out for the next 9 weeks or so.

I have arranged playdates for both boys.

The barometer, you might say, is set fair for a day of outside fun.

And yet where do they all want to be?

Inside.

Give me strength...

(I am now going upstairs with my 'nasty mummy' head on to bodily throw all four of them out of doors whether they like it or not...)

Trade Fair

Boy #1 had a playdate (I know, I know, I hate the expression too but it does do what it says on the tin...) this afternoon. I'm not sure what he and his classmate have in common other than a shared obsession with Bakugan (see photo above - taken by Boy #1 - if you have no idea what these are), but their friendship works, so when he asked if he could have Friend S over today I agreed.

I had envisaged an couple of hours of loud voices (theirs, not mine), making - and tidying away - sandwiches, clearing up spilt drinks, and watching the two of them and Boy #2 chasing each other around the place.

What I hadn't envisaged was becoming Police Officer Mummy.

Unfortunately this is not the reference to a cops and robbers game that it might first appear. To put the following in context, as a relatively new arrival to Russia, a lot of Boy #1's toys are still not readily available here, and as such are objects of desire for other children.

So Police Officer Mummy is more of a reference to overhearing Friend S demanding that Boy #1 give him (not share, lend or trade) one of his treasured Ben 10 figurines. I hung back for a few minutes until it became clear that my son, whilst unwilling to part with his toy, was wilting under the onslaught of insistent demands, and then jumped in. I pointed out that this toy had been a birthday present to Boy #1 from his younger brother. I then pointed out that it was OK for Friend S to ask to borrow it, and that it was OK for him to ask to play with it whilst visiting. It was even OK for him to ask if Boy #1 wanted to trade his desirable figurine for something in Friend S's possession. But just asking for it?

I'm ashamed to admit that my inner Oldest Child -the one with issues about ownership -couldn't allow it.

Well, whatever my reasoning, Boy #1 looked very relieved, and Friend S backed off. He didn't really want it, he said.

But 5 minutes later I overheard him saying to Boy #1 "Come and hide under the stairs with me. There's something I want to talk to you about and I don't want your mum to hear..."

Question; what would you have done at this stage? Would you have walked away and let your son get on with it, working out how to fight his own battles, and probably losing custody of one of his beloved Ben 10 figurines in the process?

Or, would you have called out from the kitchen "You know, when I hear someone saying that 'I don't want your mum to hear' about something, I immediately start to wonder what that something might be..."

There was no loan or trade. Boy #1 was happily playing with said figurine this evening. I'll let you draw your own conclusions about which of the two routes above I took, but I wonder, what would you have done?

Pushover? Moi?

A couple of weeks back one of our new neighbours invited us over for a cup of tea. It was a lovely gesture, all the more so because recently arrived and basically camping in our new home, such civilised events as actually sitting down (on chairs!), drinking tea (from proper cups!) and eating cake (home-made, no less!) were something we had got out of the habit of doing.

Her children got on well with ours, and the afternoon was marred only by a pushing incident when one of them got a little too physical with Boy #2. Just a one off. Nothing to worry about. But still. I'm a mum, right? So I made a mental note to keep a weather eye out in the future when said child was around.

A couple of days back, a few children came over for a playdate, and this child was among them. I resolved to keep an eye on Boy #2 and make sure the boy in question didn't pick on him. Nothing more, just observe from a distance.

The child's behaviour was, of course, exemplary, and mid-way through the playdate he walked into the kitchen where I was putting together a casserole for a dinner party (just call me Abigail). He sniffed the air. I watched him, narrowly. 'You can't put one over on me, sunshine...I've got your number.'

And then he turned to me and said "Smells good. You must be an excellent cook."

And I, cold hard woman that I am, melted, and said in reply; "Thanks. Would you like another biscuit?"

See? I am definitely no pushover...

Today's definitions...

Today's definition of 'WTF Were You Thinking?'...

... is agreeing when, during a post-school play-date, your children ask to continue erecting the lego monstrosity they started and abandoned yesterday afternoon. (And which you had since hidden in the study in the hope they might forget all about it).


Today's definition of 'Diplomacy'...

...is working out how best to deal with the discovery that your son's playdate visitor is a bit of a lego fiend and has issues with 'sharing' and 'taking turns' when it comes to deciding who gets to put which piece of useless moulded plastic where.


Today's definition of 'Relief'...

...is when 2 out of 3 participating children decide after 15 minutes that lego is 'boring' and you see an end in sight to the horror, the horror...


Today's definition of 'Dashed Hopes'...

...is when your younger - and more obstinate - son refuses to give up the ghost and insists on continuing to build the police car that comes as an essential part of the 'City Police Station' kit.


Today's defnition of 'Pain'

... is the sensation in your knees as you 'find' yet another tiny walkie-talkie / street sign / railing / choking hazard without using your hands.


Today's definition of 'Frustration'...

...is when you spend 20 minutes looking for the one tiny piece of plastic shrapnel without which said police car cannot be completed.


Today's definition of 'A Sense of Achievement'...

...is when you find the piece and can finish the damn thing.


Today's definition of 'Resignation'...

...is when you look up from attaching said piece and find you are alone in the room, surrounded by a sea of brightly coloured plastic, and realise that no child has been involved in this project for at least a good 15 minutes.


Today's definition of 'Groundhog Day'...

...is when you hand the finished police jeep to your delighted son, turn around to start the clear up operation, and hear the crash as the dratted thing falls to the floor and disintegrates into a million tiny pieces.