Somebody said get a life... so they did.
I crave that my children will enjoy their childhood as much as the next parent.
And there are particular milestones in our children’s lives that we all look forward to, are almost desperate to experience, to make the sleepless nights, the squeezing of our freedom, the tears and the tantrums all worthwhile. Well, almost worthwhile.
We secretly want payback. We demand it…
Or is that only me?
Picture this scene if you will.
It's a sparkling late winter's afternoon in Bushy Park, the second largest of London’s Royal Parks, on the doorstep of Hampton Court Palace and at 445 hectares (that’s biggish) a place ripe for children and big people alike to play and relax among abundant blossoming trees, a beautiful lake, rutting red and fallow deer and a top-drawer playground (with café).
But not since the days during WW1 when Bushy Park housed the King’s Canadian Hospital or even when Henry VIII and Cardinal Thomas Wolsey had a bit of a ding dong over a bit of treason (alleged) can the Park have witnessed the drama of my four-year-old son and daughter climbing aboard their new Isla Bikes ("pedals, no stabilisers dad!") for only the second time proper and making Bushy Park their own; well, for a couple of hours or so anyway.
It was a scene straight out of Thelma and Louise; two friends (that’ll be my son and daughter) snap up the opportunity to leave their responsibilities behind them (or in this case, leaveme behind) and head out on a road trip to blow off steam (think twin four-years-olds screaming, as they blast off down the Queen’s highway with the wind though their hair sending young families, walkers, deer and geese fleeing for their lives).
I couldn’t begrudge them this moment.
Four years of enduring relentless counts “no,” “don’t do that,” and “will you eat!” Now it was their turn.
And this was a kodak moment.