The swimming lesson went OK after all. Hurrah. She came back and decided that yes, she was going to listen to what was told her, and have a good time – and she did. So there we are, they're 'on' again.
Nothing spectacular seems to have happened yesterday. Well I did go to the 'Zumba' class... which is an exercise thingy of some hip-hop/salsa/Afro-carribean/god-knows-what fusion mish-mash that leaves one sweating buckets so I'm guessing it's good exercise... but it's a good thing there are no video cameras there. My word. It's basically a 'teach white people to dance' thing that doesn't really work – well not from the results I can see round me and in the mirror. Ugh. At best it ends up looking as if you're having a fit.
Littles has forsaken 'Pat and Mat' for a short while in favour of a nightly viewing of 'The Nutcracker'. We're talking the ballet here. That's fine, but she's very keen on being lifted up and turned round, having her legs hoisted (preferably with commentary) with the explanation: “you help me, because I can't do it by myself,” as if with help it was an exact replica of what's going on on screen. Surprisingly tiring, hauling her about like that.
Hey up, something's just hit the floor from a bunk bed – I wonder what she smuggled into bed to make that noise on the way down. The other day we discovered her with two books and a fake bird's nest. Oh, here she comes. Christmas Tree Toast needed, no doubt.