KELLY BROWN: I can't be the only one always dreaming of my next holiday ...
I CAN'T be the only person who spends their spare time working out many days until my next holiday.
Now when I say ‘spare time’, I use that term loosely. It translates to the moments while I’m hanging out the washing, ironing or waiting for my computer to do as it is told.
But when I’m drowning in housework, flustered by the constant juggling of home and work or looking out the window at the ridiculously changing weather, I find myself daydreaming about my next break.
I think my son’s insistence on needing to know how many sleeps until things happen is most definitely getting me in the ‘counting down’ phase.
I’ve promised him a special ‘mummy and son’ day next week when I plan to take him to Chessington (weather permitting!) for the day.
So that is seven sleeps accounted for.
But when he asked me yesterday how many sleeps until our week-long holiday in September, it was a quick calculation too far.
My brain can no longer compute! (More of that baby brain stuff I think).
And anyway, it is far too many sleeps for my son to count down from, so the simple answer was ‘lots and lots of sleeps’.
I’ve probably got him into the ‘how many sleeps’ mode by using it as a countdown to birthdays and Christmases, and now it seems to be the barometer by which everything in life is measured.
Mind you, I know I’m not alone in spending my daydreams counting down to the next exciting thing.
My neighbours (who are serial holidaymakers) are constantly counting down until their next break.
They are never happy unless one is booked and ready to look forward to, which actually is not a bad philosophy!
And my parents, friends and other family are almost as bad, and pretty much all have breaks booked for later this year.
Still, at least I don’t have to wait too long. I’ve got 15 sleeps until a little weekend caravan break, swiftly followed by a little window in which to book another break.
Well, you have to have something to look to!
Addicted to parks
MY SON has an addiction – to going to the park.
On Sunday he went to three different parks with mummy and daddy, and on Tuesday he persuaded my folks to take him to two different parks.
He has his own little explanations for each park, and I know exactly where he wants to go when he says ‘the one with the twisty-wisty slide’.
Well, at least no-one can accuse us of never taking him anywhere!