Both the Frog and I often have work to do on weekends, work or domestic sorting-out stuff and most days he doesn't get home until the spud's bedtime. So, it's not often we get real time just to play together as a family and we've decided to make more of an effort.
Today we took the spud swimming and then to a cafe and then home for a family dinner and it was the best Saturday I've had in ages.
At the pool the spud is usually fearful and tentative but today he threw himself about in the water and not only went out of his depth but actually swam a few feet with his float.
It helps that the view out of the pool's windows is of Brixton train station and every few moments a train goes past; the spud cheers and shouts and struggles to get closer to the window; perilously situated at the deep end. Possibly not the safest way to get one's offspring swimming, admittedly.
After drying out and having hot drinks at a local cafe we trotted home for dinner. First he tried to eat with chopsticks ("grip tightly in one hand, stuff the food between them, wrangle shredded remains to mouth"). Then it became vital to do some dog whistling. I showed him the circled fingers method while the frog demonstrated the four-finger method. The spud huffed stir-fry all over his plate and then tried to stuff his father's fingers into his own mouth at which point dinner was pretty much over.
It's been great. As always however, looking back there is one fly in the ointment of my memory. As we were getting dressed in the pool changing room, I was pulling on my bra when the spud reached up a little hand. "Your boobs are falling Mummy. You need to push them back up".
Ah yes. Only three but already a man.
Next time he gets changed with the Frog.