And so the holidays draw to a happy close… Wait, what? What the fuck do you mean we’re only one week in? You are shitting kidding me.
So far – in a week – we have done: London Sealife Centre, London Eye, Shrek Adventure, swimming, cinema, a picnic, McDonalds, Chessington and Legoland, and frankly I am ready for death. The best news? Tomorrow is the first day of YoungestGirl’s holiday, so we haven’t even really properly experienced the double-load yet.
EldestGirl is convinced that every day needs a treat. This is not something simple like a chocolate biscuit or trip to the playground. In fact, she has made a list of 35 approved activities and insisted I map them onto a calendar. They include things like London trip, swimming, Chessington and Legoland, in fact. I am beginning to realise who is in charge in this household.
Just to add a cherry right on the top of the fuck-it-all cake, EldestGirl’s school is taking all their inset days for the year right at the start of September, giving us a whole extra week of school holidays. Oh felicity.
Today was Legoland. Owing to my desperate efforts to get as much as possible out of our Merlin passes, this was my third fucking trip to fucking Legoland in six weeks, albeit the first with EldestGirl, as she had been at school until now. We got there for when the park opened. We planned our trip with a precision that MI5 would be proud of, assuming planning a trip to Legoland falls within their remit. It might not. I don’t remember that episode of Spooks, anyway. We rode the rides we wanted to do, and we left in the early afternoon when the crowds built up. (No Legoland, I do not want to queue for half an hour to go on Fairytale Brook, which is now so run down that your wolf looks like it’s drowning, and Cinderella looks exactly as bedraggled in the ball dress pose as she does in her rags.)
I handed EldestGirl an iPad, lovingly loaded with her favourite films, for the journey home.
We got through the front door, tired but happy, by about 4 p.m.
At 4.06 p.m., EldestGirl uttered the immortal words, “I’m bored. What am I doing now?”
Under my breath, I may have whispered, “Fucking right off, that’s what.” Out loud I suggested that if she was bored, she could read me five pages of her Worst Witch book, but she decided that this activity was even drearier than standing in the kitchen, moaning “play with me”.
I think we may have spoiled her. So, from now on, six sets of times tables, twenty minutes of piano practice, half an hour of writing, half an hour of reading before breakfast. And if she’s well-behaved until lunchtime, we’ll consider letting her out of her bedroom.
YoungestGirl, in a spectacular show of good timing, is coinciding:
- Leaving nursery for the summer (from today)
- Showing a readiness for potty training (from tomorrow)
- A propensity to tantrum for 75% of the day (permanently)
But, I am nothing if not resourceful. From now on EldestGirl’s holiday treats will be based on the success of her teaching her little sister how to use the potty without causing any tantrums.
I mean, yes, she’s likely to need therapy for this in later years, but by then I’ll be all tucked up in an old people’s home, babbling nonsensically to myself about Legoland and Merlin Passes and school holidays.