Tuesday, 28 June 2011

Little H the mermaid

Our little H is not only a cheeky monkey, a fruit monster, a ‘snuggle bum’, but now also a little mermaid.

On Sunday the sun was shining, the temperature above 20 Celcius and we had the whole day ahead of us for some family fun. We decided to go to a lake nearby to dip our toes in the, probably, freezing water. But first: Little H needed her nap, we needed our lunch, we had to make smoothies to bring, we needed to localize the sun cream and to pack a bag with all other necessities, change and dress Little H, apply this sun cream and get her highness into her seat in the car .

The list was almost endless of ‘to dos’ and ‘need to bring’ and when we finally sat in the car, it was not only us who were heading for the lake, but also some very dark, very big clouds, bursting with raindrops. Great.

Little H has had a rather ambivalent relationship with water. She loves being in her little blue bathtub. She used to hate the shower, these days she cannot get enough of running water and has a tantrum every morning if she is not allowed to join either me or Pappa Kas in the shower.

She liked her baby swimming classes. Sometimes so much that she squealed in delight and scared the other babies. Other times she got silent, clingy and very cold, looking at me with blue lips and sad eyes to tell me that this is neither fun nor comfortable ( I could not agree more).

So how would she react to the real thing?

We were optimistic. Swimming diapers were on, we had brought a bucket and a spade for playing in the sand, and only the rain could stop us from having a jolly good time.

I have to admit that I swim like an old lady (breast strokes, no water in my hair- thank you very much), and do not go swimming in lakes or in the sea unless it is +22 C and no other people around. Would Little H take after her mother, as she does with her appetite for strawberries, a belly a Buddha would be proud of, and blue-grey eyes? Or would she take after her father, and swim like a dolphin, fight the waves and not to care about her hair whether in salt water or water with chlorine.

Here I am glad that the Spanish genes came through. While I was sitting on our picnic blanket, sipping smoothie and supervising from a distance, the two Castro’s were jumping from small rocks and into the water, splashing around, walking out to water high enough to reach the belly (Little H ones that is), in water that to me “looked” like 12 degrees warm.

Oh, have I told you that the in-laws are here? Watch this space…

1 comment:

  1. Lille H er en tøffing, Landfalltjern er ingen spøk selv i juni! Lille O hyler som en stukken gris hvis vi så mye som prøver å dyppe tærne hans i det lille badebassenget på verandaen...


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