Actually, I’m completely lying - letting the Bean get stuck into a beach isn’t something we ordinarily manage to do at all, but I don’t care. We had a great day, and it’s my blog.
So.
A Sunday by the beach with commentary by the Bean, mostly at foghorn-volume level:
A tram ride - oooo TAM!!!
A train ride - (a little lump of silence in my arms, felled by a particularly soporific baby einstein video)
Panini with cheese - TEEEEZZ!
BEACH BEACH BEACH BEACH - ooooo TONE (stones), WAWA (water), Uh-oh (stones accidentally-on-purpose thrown in every direction)
Ice cream - AH-AH-AH-AH-AH (oi! Share!)
Another train ride - (no sleep, but total meltdown. Ho hum)
Another tram ride - (fidget fidget fidget)
Pasta with tomatoes - PAPPA
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A Sunday by the beach with commentary by the Bean, mostly at foghorn-volume level:
A tram ride - oooo TAM!!!
A train ride - (a little lump of silence in my arms, felled by a particularly soporific baby einstein video)
Panini with cheese - TEEEEZZ!
BEACH BEACH BEACH BEACH - ooooo TONE (stones), WAWA (water), Uh-oh (stones accidentally-on-purpose thrown in every direction)
Ice cream - AH-AH-AH-AH-AH (oi! Share!)
Another train ride - (no sleep, but total meltdown. Ho hum)
Another tram ride - (fidget fidget fidget)
Pasta with tomatoes - PAPPA
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For the record, it wasn’t a coastal beach, this. ‘t was a tiny stretch of pebbles by Lake Como and it takes two hours of public transport-sponsored torture (local train, bijjillion tourists, hot hot hot) to get there. That’s why this doesn’t happen very often.
I felt like such a cheapskate, carting back our sticky, sweaty, knackered Bean on the train instead of in an air-conditioned car. I noticed the sideways glances of Italian parents when I let the him dip his bare feet into the freezing cold water (essentially melted snow), their children still zipped up in jackets and covered with woolly hats. I cringed under the glares on the tram, as overtiredness turned him into a flailing gremlin.
But I don't care, it's my child. So. He loves trams and trains. It was 23° C and gloriously sunny. And by golly we had a great day.
I felt like such a cheapskate, carting back our sticky, sweaty, knackered Bean on the train instead of in an air-conditioned car. I noticed the sideways glances of Italian parents when I let the him dip his bare feet into the freezing cold water (essentially melted snow), their children still zipped up in jackets and covered with woolly hats. I cringed under the glares on the tram, as overtiredness turned him into a flailing gremlin.
But I don't care, it's my child. So. He loves trams and trains. It was 23° C and gloriously sunny. And by golly we had a great day.
