For those days where you think you know best – have faith!
After 72 hours in the infirmary that is our home, I was desperate for some fresh air and different surroundings. Poor Harry had been cooped up with us as we both recovered from some god-awful viral thing that delivered a hangover-like head and had us crawling to our beds like zombies.
I felt for the little man. He’d watched the first four seasons of Paw Patrol back-to-back. He’d existed on pesto pasta, cereal and found a new love for bourbon biscuits. As for clothes, he’d spent two days running around the house in pyjamas. In our attempt to get through the day we had tried to find a family friendly movie. No to Shrek. No to Ice-Age. No to Lorax. We opted for the wonder that is James Bond. Although a little impervious to the charms of Roger Moore (we of course started him on my favourite – The Man With The Golden Gun), he quite liked being a mini-ninja and found the fight scenes hilarious (slightly concerning). However, Scaramanga and his third nipple were no substitute for forest and fresh air. On our third day of involuntary hibernation we decided it was best for all of us to get out in to the bracing cold, clear our collective heads and be in open surroundings where we weren’t too contagious.
We know what is best for you. As we wrestle you in to a coat and hat. It seems you have developed a fear of the outside as you wail, “stay in, stay in”.
We know what’s best for you as we pull up in the country park and exit the vehicle in to the frankly, biting wind. This WILL be fun – trust us, we’re your parents. A little bit of wind will blow those cobwebs out.
We know what’s best for you as we load up on coffee and millionaire’s shortbread bars in the cafe. It’s best you don’t have coffee. It’s best you don’t have any more chocolate after the last few days. What you need is a healthy dose of vitamin c and some fruit, but to save the meltdown that is brewing, we will compromise on a bag of quavers.
We know what’s best for you as Mummy’s arms are about to fall off from carrying you. You’ve needed a ‘mumma huuuuuggggg’ for the first ten minutes of our family adventure but we’ve been struggling to understand your other plaintive cry. It’s best you walk – you’re a big boy now. Oh. It’s probably best you walk in two wellies but it seems one of them has fallen off… back up the hill. So THAT was what you were upset about, welly… suddenly it becomes clear.
Off you pop Daddy. In the meantime mummy engages her glutes by squatting and letting you sit on her lap whilst you wail ‘welly.’ This is going swimmingly – anyone refreshed yet? I’m certainly getting firmer buttocks.
We know what’s best for you as we sit on a bench and munch our treats. There’s a smile on your face as you dig in to those quavers. See – we know best. Possibly not better than a dietician – I think they may have a thing or two to say.
Do we know best for you? As you munch we sit and discuss the question that keeps going round and round and round. Where is the best place to live? Do we keep you where you are in our lovely home but where Daddy has a commute and stressful job? Do we move closer to family? If we move, when do we move? Do we do another ten years near London? Do we move you when you’re happy and settled in school? Do we know what’s best for you? Do we know what’s best for us?
Perhaps we don’t always know if it is best, but we will always try to do right for you. It may not be the healthiest, the most economic, the cleanest, the most educational or the most logical option, but it’ll be the best at that moment. And at this moment, what was best for you was climbing, sliding and jumping.
Now let’s get back in the warm for some Bond, biscuits and snuggles!
Written by Karen Legge for her blog, The Unyoung Mum.