Grand day out today, me, Sylvia and Rose set off with the double buggy with two chairs on a voyage to the Museum of Childhood in Bethnal Green. Bloody brilliant it was too. Have you any idea that a museum can have a sandpit INDOORS? Not to mention some puppet theatres for children to do their own impromptu shows, some real live rocking horses and a large wind-up robot?
We went to the Judith Kerr exhibition, and it was just great, with a massive great Tiger (of coming to tea fame) sitting at a table in a formica kitchen, managing to look somehow menacing and very friendly at the same time. Maybe it’s the hungry expression. My mum and dad met us there after the inevitable shenanigans with mobile phones (we must have the ‘You didn’t answer my call, I called twice, where were you?’ argument every single time we meet up, it varies as to who is accusing the other, often it’s both).
After the exhibition my mum and dad shuffled us into a Tiger who came to tea show put on by museum staff. It was extremely charming, and I can forgive the person who played the dad having quite large breasts, for the sheer energy and excellent props. I think I’m a bit traumatised from an old children’s song video someone gave Rose, which included a Rupert the bear with a big bust.
Lunch in the cafe was a success, again mainly down to my father’s amazing ability to grab chairs, probably from under the noses of pregnant women and elderly people. Not counting him as elderly naturally. The food was nice though it’s quite incredibly loud in there, children and acres of tiled surfaces don’t make for a quiet environment. I don’t think the Victorians were thinking about the museum being actually visited by children when they built it, it always used to be about childhood rather than for children. Not anymore though, we could have stayed all day if we’d had the puff.
The journey home was fun with Sylvia going into a light doze while me and Rose put on our ‘middle class mum and child’ act by reading together. I found a balloon in my handbag which turned out to be fun, we spent ages rubbing it on the seat and making each other’s hair stand on end.
Warning to anyone stupid enough to take a double buggy on the East London lines, there isn’t a lift at Whitechapel station and the staff are too busy to help you down the stairs. Bit pissed off with Mothercare for taking two weeks to deliver a buggy board, using Amazon next time or any online shop that cares about delivering products within the lifetime of the customer.
A few days ago I had a conversation with Rose when I told her that it’s now up to her to decide whether she goes to the toilet or wets her knickers, I’m going to stop badgering and shouting at her. I suddenly realised that I was getting so frustrated by her refusing to go when she is clearly bursting that I’d actually become part of the problem by growling and snarling at her all the time. After a couple of days of the new regime she’s had her first completely dry day for ages. Fingers crossed! Touch wood! etc