So this is the first morning after my time in exotic Wales. In all honesty I can't remember when I have been this tired.
I have drove over 500 miles, chased a 3 year old super dynamo up and down hills, around lakes and beaches (in his words the quiet beach isn't as nice as the noisy beach, the only difference I could see is it was windy the day we went to the noisy beach so the waves were crashing a bit), up mountains and, most terrifying of all, around arcades. So many pretty lights for a 3 year old to be distracted by.
I bay slept, except for Thursday when the other half graciously allowed me an extra hour in bed, and I have spent a bleedin' fortune.
My little boy also proved to have an unerring ability to make me man-up and get over my debilitating fear of heights. I call it fear of heights but I have vertigo and it isn't heights I am scared of, it is the immense dizziness and nausea that overcome me when I am high up. Sometimes standing on a chair is enough to set it off, and there is nothing more pitiful than seeing a six foot man clinging onto a wall for dear life when he is standing on a one foot stool. While we were in Caernarfon we went to the fun factory; if you go to Caernarfon you will know the one to which I refer as it is on all the tourist information boards. It occupies a beautiful old stone church, a larger version of the variety that are speckled all around North Wales and are always what I think a church should look like.
In the fun factory are two tall slides which are almost vertical. My son, the brave little trooper, really wanted to a have a go on the one that slowed you down by the old fashioned technique of dumping you straight into a ball pit. Of course, while he is big for a lad who turned 3 last monday, he isn't really big enough to be dropped 30ft down a vertical slide into a ball pit. This didn't deter him for he came up with a plan. "Daddy" he began, "you're my best friend" he knows how to turn on the charm, "can I go down on your lap". What kind of man would I be if I said no. A sensible one a large part of me was saying, but the dad in me won out.
So we went up the long flight of stairs, Kian almost a sprint and me gingerly feeling out every step. At the top I bravely enquired if he was sure he wanted to go down the slide. "Yes, Daddy, on your lap" he replied. I grabbed hold of the side netting that seperated another part of the play area from the slide and swung my right leg over and shuffled my bum across until I was sure by ample buttocks were acting as an effective wedge. I once again bravely enquired if he wanted to go down the slide and once again he replied to the affirmative, this time bouncing up and down excitedly to show his determination to make me go down. My head was spinning everywhere and every movement bought a wave of nausea and eternal dread that seemed to smother every part of my body. My breathing was shallow and sweat was coming out of my hair. But the problem with having a 3 year old who worships you is the fear of letting him down outweighs everything else. I managed, somehow, to scoop him onto my lap and wrap my left arm around him. My right hand was still firmly gripping the netting to the sode of the slide, my lifeline to the sanity of soilidity. Kian was nervous now, and I could have used that as an excuse to get out of it, but I had commited. I swung my left leg over so I was now sitting right on the edge. I took my hand from my lifeline and we counted...one...two...three...and off we slid before moments later we were crashing into the balls at the bottom.
Kian loved it. I couldn't stop him laughing enough to get him out of the ball pit, and needless to say we had to go on the slide three more times. I wish I could say it got easier for me, but it didn't. Each time was a battle and each time it was worth it to see the smile on my face.
As a family we had a fantastic time,