The kids are bouncing from wall to wall. Their shrieks of merriment are carried easily throughout this otherwise peaceful house.
They are playing a rambunctious game of hide and seek. Sophie makes her way, rather surreptitiously, into another room to hide but when discovering her ideal spot, she continues to giggle explicitly until Lars follows the sound, uncovering her location.
I’m not sure if this is part of the game or if it is just Sophie’s inability to keep her glee under wraps.
Upon learning her whereabouts, they will both let out an ear-piercing screech of surprise and then proceed to run at top speed back to the living room to start the game over again.
It looks like fun, but at the moment I’m too exhausted to give it a go.
Yesterday, I spent the day at my parents’ house in the garden hilling potatoes. I have the blisters on my palms to prove it. It was hard work but, of course, worth it for that oh so lovely yield that will be soon to follow.
I woke up this morning with the idea that I would tire my babes out today so we could get at least one early night in on these summer holidays. So I decided we’d walk. Enough walking in a day will drain the excess energy from anyone … right?
We walked down to the lake for our morning swimming lessons. This was a good enough plod in itself, not to mention their strenuous half-hour lesson fighting against the hammering whitecaps of Sylvan Lake. Well, maybe the conditions weren’t that dire, but the water did look awfully cold.
Any sane person would feel like this was enough for one day. Not me. I was on a mission and I needed to secure my success. It had been a while since we had paid a visit to the kids’ granny so I decided we would hike over to her place after lunch. This was an even longer journey than our beach jaunt so I told the kids they could ride their bikes. Now keep in mind this would be our first long ride of the season with Lars on two wheels and Sophie riding her own bike. It was going to be interesting.
We started off on a good note. At least while we were journeying on the bike paths, far away from other human beings and cars and various dangers of that sort, it was good. There are three rather long bike/walking paths we take to get about halfway to this particular granny’s home. After these paths ran their course, however, it was nothing but sidewalk — a sidewalk that ran parallel to a very busy street.
Lars is still a bit wobbly on his two wheeler and there was more than one occasion where I was sure that his handlebar was headed straight for the shiny paintjob of a parked car. When there weren’t any parked cars around, he seemed to gravitate straight towards the road and the oncoming traffic. Luckily the kid is phenomenal at stopping short when I cry, “LARS HOLD UP!”
Sophie, on the other hand, was painstakingly laidback on her bike. Whether it was that her seat felt weird on her butt, her handlebars were bugging her or a bird in a tree above us was singing a wondrous princess song and she just had to stop to enjoy the beautiful melody, the distractions the girl discovered were plentiful.
I actually fear when the day comes that she begins to drive, because if her concentration skills while bike riding are any indication of what kind of a driver she will be, then anybody on the road in those future days had better watch out!
Eventually, after a lot of, “HOLD UP LARS!” and “Hurry up Soph!” we got to Granny’s house and had a wonderful visit.
The way home seemed to actually go smoother since everyone was moving at an acceptable pace. I was sure that the near-nine km that we journeyed around town that day would have tuckered the kids out, so my anticipation was growing as we neared the house.
However, my high hopes have been shattered as it is currently 9 p.m. and the tiny humans are still at it with the high-pitched laughter and hyperactivity.
And here I am simply struggling to keep my eyes open and my body from collapsing into a calling bed.
Moral of this story: children are much too unpredictable to promise yourself a relaxing evening of rest simply over a few kilometres trekked. Now please excuse me while I fall into a deep and comatose slumber. Until next time friends. …
Lindsay Brown is a Sylvan Lake mother of two and freelance columnist.