We didn't actually do anything this weekend except go grocery shopping. We had more fun hanging around, watching movies, having a laugh and enjoying each other's company. The baby is learning to crawl so we watch her wriggle about on the carpet and then stick her bum up in the air in yogalike positions. She also said her first word yesterday; "Up". I'm not devastated that it's not Mom or Dada, I'm happy she's able to communicate and chose such a great word...it's as good as "Gimme a cuddle!".
My Eldest girl is five and a half and has been entertaining us all with her fantasy of being a superhero. It started last week on Wednesday morning when I was helping her get ready for her first day back to school. She looked sleepy and I asked if she'd slept well. "No Mummy, I was up all night!" Oh dear I said, how come? "I had to save the city." I give her the 'I don't know what you're talking about but I'll listen' look but she volunteers no further information.
"What city?" I ask
"The city what we live in." I corrected her grammar and then asked her "You mean you weren't in your bed last night?"
"No, I had to fly out and save the city...like I told you already Mummy."
"Well, how did you get out of the house? I locked all the doors."
"I made myself small like Santa can do and I slipped out the open window in the bathroom."
"Why did the city need saving?"
"There was a big monster smashing the city and I was called to save it."
"Who called?" I asked now fully attentive to the details she'll create.
"The Big Boss of the City." she says as she leans in close, conspiring giving me Lady Di eyes.
"The Big Boss? You mean, the Mayor?"
"Yes. It's a secret. You cannot tell anyone."
"How did the Mayor contact you? I never heard the phone ring." I ask.
"I have a special machine. It's a tiny machine in my ear and he can call me whenever he needs me."
"Wow" I'm amazed, impressed and engrossed, "How did you get to the city, did the Mayor send a car for you?"
"No, Mummy, I can fly you know that."
"No I didn't, when did you learn to fly?"
"I cant fly, but I have special rocket boots."
"Where did you buy rocket boots?"
"At the shops, they're red ones and they have rockets in them to help me fly." "How much did you spend on them?"
"They cost £30.00"
"Bargain!" I say wondering where I could get some cool red rocket boots. Alas, the conversation was ended when the chore of toothbrushing interrupted and arguments about what snacks are going the lunchbox. She did want to wear her rocket boots to school today, which are now a pair of grey socks and not red at all, but I had to say no since she'd worn them yesterday and to bed last night. I don't like wearing socks to bed but she insists. I think it just brings sand into the sheets. She is very imaginative.
I miss being five and half.