Today I fell off the end of a bench. It wasn't my finest hour.
The bigger boys took it all in their stride; falling off things
is among their specialities. Two year old Morgan offered me a piece of his rice cake, presumably to stop me crying. It was an Extremely Kind Thought.
I don't know how it happened. One minute I was well in control of events, making sure that all three boys had a seat on the roundabout. Next minute, I stepped back, made to take my seat on a conveniently sited bench - and found myself in a surprised heap on
the floor. Fortunately it was only my pride that was hurt....
The bigger boys and I had travelled to town on the bus - destination Poundland. Regular readers may recall that Poundland is their favourite
shop. "Choose whatever you want, boys!" I tell them, generously. The Last of the Big Spenders, that's me. James chose plasticine, Sam a kit to make one of those globes which you shake to create a kind of snow storm. After that it was off to the Lido, where
£6 apiece bought three hours unlimited use of the attractions. Plus there were lots of convenient benches for accompanying adults to rest on and - in my case - fall off.
Yesterday we spent the best part of the day at Arundel Wildfowl and Wetlands Trust. The bigger boys travelled in my car and we had one of those conversations which will live long in the memory. "When you are older," said James, "You can come and live
with us." I said I wasn't sure what his Mum and Dad would think of this idea. Sam gave this some thought, then said in that case maybe I could buy a new house next door to them. With a door leading into their house, interjected James.
One of the highlights of our visit was the boat trip to see if we could spot a water vole. I have been on this boat trip twice before with two other sets of grandchildren without success. "Third time lucky!" the Little Welsh
Boys predicted, with supreme confidence. Did you know that Ratty, of Wind in the Willows fame, actually a water vole, not a rat? I knew, of course, because I have been on the boat trip before but it was news to My Boy and his boys. All three Little Welsh Boys
had to don life jackets before boarding the boat. These were quite spectacularly mismatched to the size of the wearers. Sam had a teeny, tiny life jacket while James had one so large that his head kept disappearing inside it. "Too big! Too big!" he kept bewailing
- but we were afloat on the river so there wasn't much we could do about it. Morgan's was more or less OK for size but this was more luck than judgement. Fortunately not one, but two sightings of Ratty was enough to dispel any sartorial concerns. "We
told you! We told you!" the boys exulted.
I love my Little Welsh Boys. They are, it is true, quite, well, loud. " I can't live without being loud!" pronounced Young James. In an appropriately loud
voice. They are also as boisterous as puppies, always climbing, jumping, tumbling about. Every so often one or other will suffer a "baddie" - a bruise or a scrape - which will require examination, a wet wipe, a plaster and a hug.
You will be pleased to hear that my recovery from my Spectacular Baddie this afternoon was swift.
It must have been the rice cake.