16th May 2010 (Sunday)

WET. Thats's what happened to us today. Wet. We thought we'd get the Ya-yas out of the Littles and stretch a bit relatively early in the day, it was forecast to rain so we thought we'd have a small shimmy out to Nobby's beach (we hadn't been yet) and get back fast. Littles didn't even want to go but we knew we had to get out so out we went (tried to explain the fundaments of democracy to her by illustrating that there were two people who wanted to go out and one that wanted to stay in, and as two is more than one, we were going out. This did shut her up momentarily - long enough to bundle her into the car - but I don't think she was convinced. Don't blame her - netiher am I.) Well, first 'disaster' was that we forgot the stale bread we were intending to feed to the seaguls - TEARS and screams, go back immediately, no we're not, I WANT the bread, well it's not here. Snot galore. Good lord. Well we got over that and then it started to rain. At this point we were heading down a very long convict-built pier. No end in sight. We eventually took shelter under a tiny overhang of a derelict shed-type building, which was mildly less damp than elsewhere -excepting the huge stream of drips that was aiming for whatever part of my anatomy it could get at. When I say 'we' I mean Ian and I as the Littles was dawdling so far behind, and even when she caught up showed absolutely no signs of wanting to mitigate the effects of precipitation and the ensuing lubrication that we just gave up - we were all pretty wet anyway. Well having got this far and this wet it seemed a shame to waste it, so we went on. There were more cries of I Want the Bread are we going home to get the bread, answered by curt replies of Are we walking towards home or way from it. In the storming waves to the right there were inane people surfing in the rollers that pounded up over the breakwater , at least 20 feet high and the waves splashing over it freely. To the left, more insane surfers and paddlers, and cormorants. Ahead, the pier unrolling into the distance. We moved forwards, and were caught again in another squall but now, aha, we had shelter of a sort (after a deal of further trudging) under some look-out type post at the end of the pier. We stayed there for really quite some time, playing I spy. Things took on quite a jocund turn, as the water seeped through the rotten planks above and landed, briny and algae-full to drip down our faces. After a very reasonable interval, it was decided that the increased rate of seepage was weighing in at more than the remaning drizzle outside the shelter, so out we ventured again. Were fine for a while but then the Littles's merry skips took on a rather more frenzied air and suddenly she exclaimed that she Needed the Loo! she Needed the Loo! I'm peeing my PANTS!! and at the same moment cascades of further water came pouring out of the elasticated trouser-bottoms and tumbling freely onto the already swimming concrete. We tried to get her to the side and behind the shack we'd taken refuge under before (we'd now got back to that point) but by then she was all spent, I think. However confusion is a wonderful thing, and she squatted down in a most determined manner while we urged her not to have a poo. Protests. I need the loo. There's no loo, do you REALLY have to have a poo, right now, right here? Eventually persuaded to haul what remained of her trousers back up - we were all soaking anway so it didn't really make much odds. Carried on for a while, then further protests of I need a poo. Considering that it was better to avail ourselves of the shielded sandunes here than to wait until the car when we would al be in the most intimate proximity of whatever happened to be insisted on at that point, I took her off 'into the bushes' and let her have a good go at it. Found it was a totally unnecessary exercise, and although some small offering was squeezed out it was evidently far from urgent or imminent. I need hardly point out at this time this did not improve my temper. We trudged back, sandy now as well as wet (some more than others). I believe barely a word was spoken for the next hour or so.
Well, after that, there was an extensive recuperation period, hot showers, baths, and general retiring to rooms. After an hour or so we were a little more able to cope with life. However, all further plans for the day (such as there were) were entirely abandoned. We just got out the video of "totoro" we'd borrowed from the library, watched it all through (al of us), then read stories while tucked under blankets, and eventually started preparing dinner. Anyway, so there we are. Evening was nice, but that was one spectacularly unpleasant walk. Actually the pier was lovely, very nice, but I think the Littles is entering the backlash from the growth-spurt she's been having so is now the expected mewling and puling, ridiculous, back-to-infantile, unreasonable, unthinking, unlistening phase. Ugh. Lasts about two to three weeks usually. Lovely. Oh well, at least it's not the holidays, she can rub most of it off at school, thank god. Up till about the early afternoon she barely stopped crying and screaming for one preposterous reason to the other. WAAAAA I can't draw the frog right (I kid you not) - Never mind, it doesn't matter, draw something else WAAA no (scribble on the drawing), WAAAA scrunch up the paper (paper, pencils and drawing instruction book taken away) WAAAA no I want to do it, gets up and get the stuff back, Scribble on the book, book taken away again, WAAAA no no no no no I'm sorry, snot rubbed all over everywhere - for heaven's sake it's only a FROG and your drawing isn't that bad, it's fine, if you don't like it draw something else WAAAAA snot snot snot fling chuck scrumple... and this is while I'm trying to brush her hair. Oh well, I guess it's pretty normal really. It's just that it's like sitting watching a small animal repeatedly sit and bite it's own tail with obvious distress - part of you is horrified but part of you thinks well if it's that stupid then maybe it shouldn't have a tail, let it bite it off. Not that there's any correlation between tail length and intelligence allocation but I'm hoping you get the drift. Ah well. Couple of weeks, I guess. Fingers crossed.

On that jolly note I think I shall bid you all good night.