On Wednesday we took a cheap flight to France, leaving behind the cold and the rain and landing in what seems like another season, let alone another country.
We've been coming here five or six times a year since the spud was born and since the age of about 7 months he's shown every sign of remembering. He's been blase about the plane, has run into his room and turned on the stereo, snuggled happily up to his grand parents and greeted the playground like an old friend.
This time however it's been many moons since our last visit and it's taken some time for his memories to kick in. He was so excited about going on the plane that we had to dig his out-of-favour 'Busy Airport' book out of the back of the bookshelf and read it about 100 times the night before we went. He was transfixed the entire flight and when we arrived, he picked up his toy airplane and hasn't put it down ever since.
He has however been rather slower to remember the rest of the experience becoming slowly reaquainted with his grandparents and being thrilled with what seems like an entire new box of toys.
The weather is so good though and yesterday I had the excruciating experience of having to work inside all day while my husband and son played outside in the blazing sun - today it's my turn, hooray!