The Mister took the gang to the park while I was off to the beauty shop. Yes, I still say that. Also pocketbook. And I consider sweet smelling spray in pretty bottles perfume and not a fragrance. Old school. Regarding new school, though, I did have 4 inches of my locks cut off today! The stylist asked if the kids would recognize me and when my hair had been so short. I think it was when Big Brother was little. I wasn't sure what Biggest Sister (she of seemingly endless blonde hair that cascades to her waist now!) would think of a style that matched Baby Sister's more than hers, but she greeted me with a smile a 5 year old can't fake! Hooray!
After complete analysis of my new 'do and lots of touching of it by the smalls, I sought to tidy up the detritus of their morning out. I set about emptying the Radio Flyer Wagon (talk about old school!) from their adventure. And about that wagon: The Mister thinks we should start importing them because they are such a novelty in central London. People think we're so clever whenever we pull it around and it always sparks lots of conversations. Perhaps that's how we get off the grid - bringing the sturdy cheer of classic red wagons to the British!
So here was what 4 children packed in one wagon to spend a few hours running and playing in Hyde Park. The Mister should be glad he wasn't carrying it all. I think he'd agree that for our brood, this was travelling relatively light. I consider serving as family sherpa to be my weight bearing exercise most days. To be fair to the boys, who have somewhat sadly outgrown toting lots of extra things and worse, stopped wearing pretend police and fire badges in public, (and given the high level of pink found, too) I suspect the girls contributed to most of the wagon's haul. I can imagine the Mister counselling them that perhaps little of it would be needed, but he wisely decided to stuff it all (them, too I suppose, if there was still room) in the wagon and maintain forward momentum in a valiant effort to make it outdoors while the sun still shone.
1 pair, pink snowman earmuffs
1 pink sparkle headband
1 set, fairy wings
1 notepad and pen
1 pink purse (undoubtedly crammed with more items. It has since been spirited away from my evidence pile)
1 ball. Of the football or American soccer variety. (Other than their jackets, this was likely all the boys required)
The kids were beaming, smelling of sunshine, and covered with a thin coat of ice cream and dirt. More sure signs that spring is on the way. They also reported that Big Sister had been asked by Italian tourists to pose for pictures with them. Tourists taking their pictures is a routine (seriously) occurrence for the smalls. They thought it was funny at first, but now just roll with it. I think they're in many of photo albums (also old school, right? does anyone actually print pictures anymore?) across Asia, the Middle East and throughout Europe. Or maybe more likely, someone is compiling a significant case file in some sort of sartorial child protective services bureau.
If I'm ever hauled before that bureau to plead my case, I'll simply explain that it isn't possible to dress them all just so (nor it is likely they'll soon require less "stuff" to leave the house). Besides, most days 3 of them are confined to Catholic school uniforms. And we're sure the days of their caring all too much about their outfits and not wanting to wear fairy wings at the park will be here all too soon. So in exchange for being the resident handmaid and sherpa, unflinching stylist, and cheerleader of precious fairies, I'll gladly take the full punishment meted out, which probably starts with unpacking their wagon again tomorrow.