How I always thought it would be

Before I had children I used to imagine what life would be like as a parent. We’d spend happy days together – talking, laughing, singing, playing – doing wholesome activities and discovering the world, hand in hand. Clearly, I read a lot of Enid Blyton books as a child which appear to have shaped my view of an idyllic childhood, replacing even my own, far more realistic, experiences.

Much of early parenthood is taken up with far less wonderful activities, however. My time is spent clearing up, refereeing rows, watching mind-numbing episodes of Thomas the Tank Engine, supplying drinks and snacks on demand, and generally providing a roadie service to my darling offspring. I didn’t know it would be like that. I’m not sure I’d have jumped into it so readily had I known.

But some days are different. Yesterday was one. I drank rosé under the fig tree in the sunshine at lunchtime while Ted napped, and then after school we came home to ice creams, paddling pools, a hot dog picnic tea, and barely any argy-bargy. So much so, I managed to read a couple of pages of a magazine while the boys played. The stars aligned, and it was exactly how I imagined it would be all the time. 

Going to keep that memory in the bank for a rainy day.