Puddle-jumping Pandemonium

You need chaos in your soul to give birth to a dancing star. – Friedrich Nietzsche

It’s been a funny old week.  With my folks having managed to sell their house at lightning speed they unexpectedly, and welcomely,  descended upon us to start some proper house hunting.

This meant our normal Mummy and Emily day was shaken up a bit.  We decided if they were going house hunting in Teignmouth we may as well head off to the beach.  And we did.

It was beautiful…and breezy, very breezy.

So much so I figured it may be best to head inland a little and we went to the park where you found the biggest puddles ever.  It was so much fun.  We both had our wellies on so we ran around like lunatics,  the pair of us, splashing and jumping.  So much so that two other Mums and their kids joined in too and it turned into a massive puddle-jumping fiesta.

Eventually you tired and realised just how wet, and cold, you actually were and it was getting close to lunchtime.

Luckily, for once, I had remembered to bring a change of clothes and shoes for you so we headed off to a local cafe to get you changed, warmed up and something to eat.

Now the puddle-jumping fun had ended you realised how cold and wet you really were and began to howl, so we made quite an entrance.

First priority…get you warm.

I plonked you at the nearest table and took off your wellies.  HUGE puddles of water instantly swamped the floor.  I, ineffectually, attempted to mop this up with wet wipes and became aware of a staff member hovering nearby with a mop.

“I won’t be a minute” I smiled fearfully at her.  “I’ll just get her changed so she can eat.”

She almost smiled back.

So now the pressure is on.

I pulled off your soaking wet tights and shorts and stuffed them in a nappy bag.  You howled.

“Are you hungry?”

You nod.

I reach for the bag where I have a couple of emergency sausage rolls and hand you one.  You devour it…whilst simultaneously sprinkling a whole load of pastry flakes into the welly puddles and all across the table.

From the corner of my eye I see the lady with the mop starting to twitch.

I attempt to dry your legs with wet wipes.  Yep.  Even I can see the irony here.  I haven’t got a towel.

Then I try to wrestle your wet legs into a pair of tights.  Oh.  My.  God.  I swear this should have been a Krypton Factor challenge.   It takes forever.

You sprinkle some more sausage roll about.

The lady with the mop now has a murderous look and is twitching like crazy.

I wrestle you into your skirt and shoes.  “Now just sit here love while I order some food.”

There are three people in the queue in front of me.  I figure I’ll get us a cooked breakfast.  Most of it you would eat and it should warm you up.

Then I see it.

Everyone in front has paid in cash.

I grab my wallet.  No cash.

My turn.

“Do you take cards?” *Hopeful stare*

“No.” *Steeley glare*

WTF?  “I’m so sorry.  I, um.  We’ll just go and get some cash from the cashpoint.  So sorry.  We’ll be right back.”

Before I even have you out of the chair mad mop lady sets to work and glares at me.  As we hurry out one kind diner offers me a carrier bag for your wellies which I am struggling to carry on top of you and everything else.  I am so grateful.

Burning with embarrassment we exit, leaving a watery-sausage-roll-trail of chaos behind us.

Eventually we find the cashpoint but there is NO way I am going back in there.

We spot a Wetherspoons.

I check my watch.  12:01.

Close enough.

I order you a breakfast and me…a BUCKET of gin.