I'm off to look after my parents cats and dog; Shadow. I'm sure I'll inundate you with pictures and Highland tales on my return...I'll just have to get through all the washing first.
This was last night's task: the packing.
What's in the suitcase? It's his stuff. Not too much, not too little and just enough to cover almost any season. Scotland is like that. Temperamental with it's seasons.
I was going to try and fit everything into this bag, my hospital bag. But I was fooling myself big time.
Wish me luck. We're about to do a 6 hour journey with an almost 20 month old. Hope we end up with passengers similar to ones we got last time; by all accounts I think they were grandparents and they spoiled Roman for two hours with their time and funny faces.
Which was a welcome change to the dirty faces many other passengers pulled when we dared bring a buggy onto public transport. Roman wasn't even making any noise and that's why they call it public transport. I don't always want to travel with smelly rude people but I don't have the luxury of choice if I travel on a train.
So please, fellow passengers, who're giving me death glares, please keep the assumptions to a minimum. I'm not going to let my child needlessly scream, squeal and if he cries I will try to do all I can to soothe and comfort him. It's not always possible. I, too, get my head done in by the screams of children. It's not as though motherhood has somehow prepared me any better for them.
