Saturday was a Little Pea and Me day.

Little Pea apparently loves feeding the ducks and it’s something we’d not done together yet.  I’d not even been to the local ponds since I was a child, so (after a slightly fraught trip to a garden center – note: ceramic posts and two year old nephews don’t mix well), we pottered off, armed with an entire seeded loaf, courtesy of Sister 1.

I had a romantic notion that I might be able to recreate this photo of me and my Mum, taken at the very same place.

I am clearly a deluded auntie.  My first picture was snapped as I realised I shouldn’t have left Little Pea’s reins in the car as he hurtled towards the nearest pond, and I ran after him:

The closest I got was this:

We discovered the joys of throwing a leaf in one slide of a bridge and watching it come through to the other side.

Only apparently I wasn’t clear that you could use a new leaf each time and didn’t have to get into the stream to retrieve the leaf:

We also got to see a heron…

….and experienced the crushing disappointment that 1) it wasn’t coming over for any bread and 2) Poggy couldn’t throw bread that far.

But we did spend a long time with the baby ducks (geese):

And we liked them a lot.

I’m proud (and very relieved) that not only did neither of us fall in any ponds, but also that neither of us needed to change any clothes at any point.  For us, that has to be a record.

We did have a few tricky moments.  This is a two year old sulking because he is not allowed to drive the car (By the time I had ignored him for 30 seconds and taken the photograph, he actually forgot he was having a sulk and things returned to normal.  If only adults were so uncomplicated…):

The other tricky moment was Little Pea attempting to flee the garden center into the car park while I paid for the pot we were buying.  I picked him up and he did the kicking / screaming thing.  I had a small insight into how mummies must occasionally feel, knowing I could not control such a small thing and feeling slightly embarrassed by all the people watching in a disapproving way.  I have a tip though.  My response was a very loud ‘If you don’t behave, I’ll tell your Mummy you were a naughty boy.  Please be good for Auntie Pog’.  Even if it didn’t resolve the kicking / screaming (that took a ‘Do you want to feed the ducks?  Only good boys get to feed ducks’), it did get me some pitiful looks rather than annoyed ones.  Clearly, as an auntie it ok to have no idea what you’re doing.  Sister 1 (his Mum!) said she might start doing the same thing. :o)

‘Me do it!’