Sunday, 3 June 2012

Making a show

Little H is a drama queen is something that we all know. And she really knows when to put on a show. I do not mind her tantrums so much at home behind closed doors (it is healthy to have a temper and to clearly express ones feelings), but when she acts out in public it’s not always appreciated by her parents.

This episode takes place when Pappa Kas was to cycle an amateur cycling race. Little H and I came to the starting line for support. At the beginning H thought it was fun with the cyclists, the waffles, and the dogs loitering around.
Not as good as Mummys

Then she started to suspect that something was up… She clung to Pappa Kas, wanted to be carried by him, to sit on his bike, to put her water bottle on his bike and so on. Getting close to the start Kas had to be in the start area and no Little H or others without a bike were allowed in.
She started sniffling, she started to say “Pappa” in a sore and wounded voice. To stand on the other side of a fence was a no-no.  It was 10 minutes till start and H’s voice grew louder and louder. The pretend-to-cry show started slowly then ascending to maximum strength (read: extremely loud).

Pappa Kas and I decided that enough is enough and I tried to get Little H to say goodbye and good luck and then start heading towards the car park. This meant that we had to cross an empty football field, having approximately 200 cyclists standing in line behind us.

I kissed Kas good luck, took Little H under my arm and started walking towards the car. I pushed the pram with one hand and held H with the other. She did not just cry, or say” Pappa” in a sore voice. She cried and yelled while stretching her hands towards him. It looked like I was kidnapping her. At one point I had to set her down as I could not manage both pushing the pram and to hold a kicking and screaming two-year old. She lay in the middle of the pitch crying her heart out until I had gathered the strength to pick her up again.
I better stay on the bike so that I can come too

Sceptical, where's my seat?
 I normally ride in the back
I felt people staring so hard that my back was burning. I finally managed it across the field and got Little H into the car. Then the start gun went off. We had made a 10 minute drama for 200 cyclists. At least is shortened their waiting time.

When we went to greet Pappa Kas by the finishing line I was sure that people would recognize us as the mum who could not handle her daughter and the ill-behaving little girl…. We had practiced  shouting “Heia Pappa, Heia Pappa” for the previous two hours and when we crossed the parking lot this time  Little H was singing “Heia Pappa, Heia Pappa” at the top of her lungs with a cheeky smile on her face. People around were smiling and I was yet again a proud mum, thinking for myself “She’s the best”.


  1. Hei .
    Du har forandret bloggen din :)
    Jeg liker layouten.
    Ha en riktig fin Søndag.

  2. Tusen takk! Har hatt bloggtørke en god stund, men tenker å komme "fresht" tilbake. Håper søndagen din har vært like fin som min :-)

  3. Koselig å ha deg tilbake:)

  4. Takk Nanne :-) føles bra å være tilbake

  5. Hehe, som jeg kjenner meg igjen! XD

    Velkommen tilbake til blogglandia!

  6. Takk Inger Lise. Håper du nyter mandagen før regnet setter inn..

  7. This comment has been removed by the author.

  8. hehehehe, jeg ler igjen av denne historien :) Det er akkurat som da J fikk et skikkelig utbrudd foran 25 utdrikingsklare gutter fordi pappa skulle være med de. (Vel og merke utenfor Kiwi på Åssiden så vi var sikre på at flere fikk det med seg) Det var så ille at når deler av utdrikningslaget gikk forbi J på en lekeplass i byen senere på dagen så turte de ikke si noe til T i tilfelle nytt utbrudd :P hehe


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