Flying with a toddler is no easier than flying with a baby, but I'm having therapy to get over that part of the trip. The rest was loveliness involving Mickey Mouse, far too much food, and a lot of retail therapy (with free babysitting thrown in).
But... what goes up must come down, and today has mostly been about unpacking. Now, I'm not one to be sentimental, but, let's face it, it's the end of the summer in the UK. It's been a lovely summer, and so far, autumn has had a gentle start. But it's no longer t-shirt and shorts weather.
The thing is though - my t-shirt and shorts, I pack away and wear next year (to the horror of everyone who dreads the emergence of my simultaneously pasty-white and yet quite hairy thighs). But the toddler's summer clothes... she won't wear again. And it's harder somehow because she hasn't grown out of them. They still fit absolutely fine - but they are undoubtedly summer clothes - and she won't be this size next year. So these beautiful little outfits are disappearing, and it is sad.
|Table manners are so important.|
One worrying trend of the holiday is that the toddler has now started addressing us by our first names. Mr Nunn, entering the living room of a morning would inevitably be greeted by the toddler with, "Hello Bob."
Other new phrases included, "More lollies please", "My Mickey Mouse, you go away Mummy" and -at the end of a (for us at least) gruelling flight, on spotting a different aeroplane at the end of the runway, "Green one next." The thought of ever, ever getting on a plane again was very far from our minds at that point. But unfortunately it seems the toddler is in charge. It's a shame that the airline in question was Inter-Arab airways, meaning our next holiday is likely to be Iran, but you can't win every time.
Right. I am off to wallow in jet lag. Here I go now. *Wallowing sounds*