Oh, happy days.
Monkey Boy was given a set of roller blades some time back. Hand me downs from a friend. Waaaay too big for him at the time.
Anyhoo, in a vain attempt to get a little bit of time out, I crawled under the bomb-site at the bottom of the kids’ wardrobe and, amongst the too small pyjamas and something indeterminate that I really don’t want to think about right now, I located these ‘blades.
I call him over (damnit – I was clearly too excited and forgot all about my time out!) and try them on. On him, not me. They fit! Hooray.
Well, they will when I put three pairs of socks on him. On each foot.
I made the Grumpy one climb the little ladder to the top shelf of our wardrobe and locate my very expensive pair, next to my never seen again wedding dress and some Christmas presents from two years back. Can’t remember who they were to go to, but will see if I can’t utilise them this year.
Ah, my lovely roller blades. I was so excited to see them.
I’ve been wanting to go for aaaages. Bloody obstetrician wouldn’t let me use them when I was pregnant, the first, second and third times. Then there was kids and things like that.
So excited was I that I made them all walk to the river with me, made Monkey Boy put his on and then I got mine on.
Ah, the wind rushing through my hair.
The “Mum, wait for me! I keep falling over!!!” was whooshed away as I breezed my way, gracefully, along the path ambling along the riverbank.
Eventually, his screams for help died down, and I was in that blissful state of euphoria.
Thank goodness for kids and hand me downs! If it weren’t for them, i’d never have had an excuse to get mine out again.
A bit mid-90’s, but it was fun!