The school Easter holidays are nearly over and as usual I don’t know where the time has gone. We went to the park, we went to town for new school shoes (Tom’s only half a size smaller than me now!), we went to the cinema to see The Boss Baby, we went to the dental hospital for an appointment with the hygienist. Okay that last one wasn’t exactly holiday material but it happened to fall in the holidays and we bought toys as a reward afterwards so it counts, okay? And he wore some more cool sunglasses to protect him from the dentist’s bright light so he looked like a rock star. Naturally we took a photo….
One time I tried to persuade Tom to help me in the garden when I tidied and weeded the front yard. I thought it would be fun to do something outside, something active together. I thought it might be a little bit of learning through fun, a bit of outdoor therapy and fun to try something new as he hasn’t helped me in the garden since he grew out of “mowing the lawn” with his toy lawnmower. Apparently, though, he had received enough fresh air the day before when we went to town shoe shopping so that was a non-starter. Although he did help me when I edged and weeded the back garden; he supervised from his trampoline, bouncing and occasionally throwing his football across the garden. So helpful!
He took this photo while we were out having lunch on shoe shopping/cinema day. Isn’t it good?
We’ve watched more Milkshake than ever before, this time on the sofa downstairs so I couldn’t even sleep through it, sigh. We alternated days so one day I’d get up and suffer through Milkshake, the next he’d watch it on his own and I’d have a lie in. It’s a very civilised system that we have developed where everyone gets what they want; I can’t really complain. I’m very happy he’s learned to compromise. (Go me! I knew it would pay off big time to teach him the virtues of compromise.) The rest of the time he’s either been in his room watching DVDs and playing with his toys or playing on his Wii. He made a marvellous display of penguins at one point, another day there was something to do with Doctor Who figures.
When his room got particularly untidy and his floor was totally covered in detritus and there was no more room to play, he moved to the living room and set up a Cricket-Golf-Bowling game he’d made up that involved hitting various bouncy balls with a plastic cricket bat into a goal area created by an upturned chair where he had set out three plastic ten pin bowling pins. There was a whole basket of balls to work through and each one apparently had different powers or boosts. Obviously I had to watch him hit every single one and then have a go myself. Even thought it was dinner time, my stomach was grumbling and my chips were burning in the oven….. He really knows how to pick his demonstration-participation times.
Then there was Catch It, his most favourite game of all. He bounces in his trampoline and throws a soccer ball at me. If I catch the ball, I get the point, if I miss, he gets the point. Usually it flies way, way over my head, all the way to the back of the garden, thereby scoring a “Touchdown”. After he’s thrown it to me, I throw it back. If he catches, he gets a point, if he doesn’t I get a point. Each point is counted: single, double, triple and then a home run. After the home run we move from round one to round two and so on, all the way to round twelve. First one to complete round twelve is the champion. He made up the rules, of course. Oh, and we throw using different throws: overarm bowling, underarm bowling, netball throw, volleyball throw, overhead pass, chest pass, American Football throw. I made up the throws. We’re a creative team, you know. Thomas wins 95% of the time because he’s raised up in a trampoline and bouncing and so can throw the ball higher than I can reach. Thomas likes to win. A Lot. So I basically stand around for half an hour missing the ball, retrieving it, throwing it back to him and keeping track of what level he’s on. “Oh what a throw! A triple on level five, aren’t you doing well?” He also cheats, throwing while my back is turned and before I’m ready. Or throwing it short, or throwing it in the completely different direction to where I’m standing, so I can’t possibly catch. He’s not daft, he does it deliberately because he likes to make me squeal with outrage. Getting a reaction out of me is another part of the joy of the game, as is the celebration dance after each point. The touchdown celebration includes a dab.
I asked him today what the best bit of the holiday was and he immediately said “Catch It”. That’s what I love about kids. You can take your kid into town, buy him presents, take him to the cinema, treat him to lunch and dessert and spend a tidy sum on a day trip but what he enjoys best is messing around with you in the garden with a £3 bouncy ball.
And for once it didn’t rain during the holidays and so we could.