The delicate art of trampolining: stage one

When I was triplet-sitting over the week-end (see last post), all their cousins came over to tea. Here are the youngest two trying to master the trampoline. The heartless laughter comes from Daddy...

A holiday picture for a grey* day

This is my youngest grandson (and friends) on the plane on his way to Greece. He may look serious, but apparently he had a  marvellous time.

(*I know that some are experiencing the sun today, but as yet there are have been no sightings in Devizes)

And talking of wasting time...

 ...which I was (talking about it, that is), I spent a large part of the weekend with my  youngest grandson (left) throwing sticks into a stream. Sort of Pooh Sticks without the bridge. Not a waste of time, though, because he thought it was the greatest fun. Plus, I managed to prevent him from throwing himself in with the sticks, so I did a Good Thing.

Horse diaries

Titch: You've taken my picture off your blog!
Me: That's right. You were Mr. April. This is Mr. May.
Titch: Doesn't look much like a horse to me.
Me: No. It's not a horse. It's a toddler. One of the things you run away from when they're in pushchairs, although they're a fraction your size.
Titch: You can't be too careful. (Titch dislikes anything small, with wheels). That's not a carrot it's eating.
Me: No. It's a biscuit. Toddlers like biscuits.
Titch: What is it, anyway? This toddler thing?
Me: "It" is my youngest grandchild.
Titch (who can be jealous): Fond of it, are you?
Me: Yes. Very.
Titch: Hmph. Don't bring it anywhere near me.
Me: I wouldn't dream of it. You can be very stupid sometimes.
Titch: Well, what do you expect? You're always saying what small brains horses have.
Me: You said it.
Titch: Tell it to try carrots. Might help it to grow a bit. (Pause.) And talking of carrots...?

Tantrums

Observing my small step-grandaughter lying on the ground kicking and screaming (I forget the exact reason. There probably wasn't one), I finally realised why toddlers do it like that. By lying down, they free up all four limbs to thrash about and make maximum impact. (Having weathered countless tantrums from my four children, seven grandchildren and seven step-grandchildren, I should probably have worked this out years ago.)

Next time I'm seriously annoyed, I think I just might try it myself.