After a lie-in (until 9am! Thanks, S), this morning I went to the hairdresser’s. I’m not normally a fan of going and only get my wild locks tamed when absolutely necessary (a couple of weddings coming up soon). But I had a lovely time. I sat on a massage chair while I had my hair washed then had a cappucino brought to me that I drank while it was HOT, and had my hair cut and styled beautifully by a easy to talk to, non-intimidating hairdresser! It was bliss.
Then I popped into Tesco on the way home and went shopping by myself. I did some browsing, bought some vino and chocolate peanuts (which I am enjoying right now), and picked up a DVD, all without the constant low level anxiety that accompanies shopping with a toddler who could go into meltdown at any moment. Aah, simple pleasures.
When I got home, little T was up from his nap, and S was waiting to leave to go on a stag weekend. We kissed him goodbye and sat down to lunch. Then I decided we’d do some finger-painting.
We last finger-painted about a month ago and I was somewhat traumatised by the experience. But like childbirth, the passage of time renders the memory of it less painful. So I dug out the paints.
Well obviously the first thing T did was to try and eat the paint. It’s got something in it that makes it taste vile (I know- I tried it) to try and stop kids from eating it. T will not eat vegetables or most fruits but went back for seconds of the paint.
Next he ran around for a bit while I tried to coax him back to the paper. Then he put his whole hand in the paint and decided he really needed to touch me. And got very sad when I wasn’t up for this. When he stepped in the tub with the paint in I decided that was enough painting for today. Despite all this he still managed to create a, um, masterpiece.
Having given up on finger painting, I then needed to negotiate our cream carpets and magnolia walls holding a paint-covered baby at arms length. I managed to get him to the bathroom and chuck him in the bath. Which he was thrilled about.
Even colourful rubber duckies couldn’t cheer him up.
While he was in the bath it started to p*ss it down. In my haste to get him in the bath, I had left the back door open. When we got downstairs my excited little boy ran over to the door to see the storm. Before I could stop him he climbed outside and began to run about in the rain. So I grabbed our rain jackets and went to join him.
I had a lovely bit of me-time this morning, but actually the highlight of my day was seeing the look of pure joy as T splashed in the puddles and felt the rain on his face in our impromptu play time in the rain (which ruined my lovely new hair-do… I didn’t mind, much). #simple pleasures.
Plus his painting was washed away by the rain which saves me the guilt of throwing it away (sorry T but I think we can both agree it wasn’t your best effort). #bonus.