Happy Birthday Mr
Much as the skeletal shed haunts us, it is a weekend for treats.
So on Saturday we take in a self defence workshop, which might not be everyone's idea of leisure but Mr learnt a new application for W-block and my wrist restraint release moves have perked up measurably.
Saturday evening Little Granddaughter comes over, over tired, unimpressed. Spongebob calms her. She sleeps for twelve hours.
Sunday morning she wakes in a helpful mood. We cook Grandad some breakfast. Teddy must help too. Also one has to stop to play the recorder. And catch some clouds in a jar. And find the missing duckling. And explain why it isn't time for a bath yet. And help Teddy learn to play the recorder. Teddy looks after the ducks but all the clouds escape. Teddy is not a good at multitasking. Nam-ma makes a LARGE COFFEE and plates up. Slow cooked breakfast is the best kind, after all.
Sunday afternoon a planned trip to Minions, with Girl and Miss Kirsty and Dog added to the entourage, diverts to Golitha Falls. Miss K brings an epic picnic and we eat it at the granite table bathed in sun warmth.
We walk our stuffed tummies through the trees and boulders and Dog swims in mud and Little Granddaughter falls in mud. It does not deter her Gruffalo hunt. One by one she tracks each character to its house.
The finale is a river paddle. Dog is washed: goes around in the flow not unlike a furry jumper in a washing machine. We show Miss K the tree with the Goblin's face. Little Granddaughter removes her wet trousers to ride on Nam-ma's shoulders.
Everyone returns to the car with an outdoor glow. At home blackberry wine is chilling. And Little Granddaughter sings such songs of broccoli, my broccoli, not carrots, not peas, it's my broccoli…
Happy birthday Mr: which at the start of the day was a wish and at the end is a stated fact.