We nicked him because it’s very nearly time to admit he’s too big for the lovely, light and bouncy three-wheel buggy (close to collapse) and drag out the heavy, spine-shuddering Pixi chair for every journey. The chair we fought for and had to pay towards, as we live all of about 15 miles away from a wheelchair service that talks nicely to the distributors, and that is wonderful in smooth, urban environments I don’t particularly spend much time in. Great for Manchester Museum, pants for Ramsbottom.
The chair he climbed into to look around Kidz Up North, an annual exhibition of equipment for children with disabilities.
We found a perfect three-wheeler. With a ticklishly well-designed insert that has beanbag beads and inflates to mould around the sitter (how top is that? A snip at £199), it’ll come to around £750. Fingers crossed that when Zig’s vouchers run out next summer, the wheelchair service will recognise that having an all-terrain fantastic-mobile is essential for full, fun and functioning family life.
Of course they will.
Oh yes.
Had time after for the Bolton Toy Saurus. Somehow just managed to wheedle his splints into the trolley seat’s leg holes (not for much longer, then it’ll be fun). It was about half-past-two, so there wasn’t time enough to get him back to school, but it did sort-of occur to me that Toy Saurus wasn’t the legitimate reason for taking him out of school, and moreover that he was wearing a jumper with his school name embroidered on the front >nonchalant whistle<.
Still, we had Important Business. Zig wants to give Molster a magic kit for chrimbo, which is a top idea and all his own. We sadly had to pass the box of revolting magic tricks, complete with fake poo, as Mol is easily discouraged and poo just might be a tad advanced. Settled instead for standard Marvin beginners' box with plastic cups and sponge rabbits. The important thing was that it was large enough to secrete a Wolverine action figure from the little chap in the trolley seat. He does like his Wolverine.
And the joys of making a virtually indestructible man-made steel alloy which does not occur in nature and whose exact chemical composition is a United States government classified secret claws from fun foam.
[Insert standard entry of headbanging frustration about the holdup in the checkout queue at Toy Saurus. If you haven't written one as yet, give it a couple of weeks. You will, I say, you will.]
Picked up a proud daughter later. Her class is going swimming every afternoon for a month. Nearly three weeks in she was bouncing to say she’s made it to 25m, And I Need £1.20 For A Badge Mum Mum Please Mum.
I’m so very proud of her. Not for the 25m, but of course for that, but not just that. But for the fact that although being aware that most in her class have had swimming lessons from being tiny and whiz and whoosh and dive and (in one case) butterfly, my own 8 year old sweetpea doesn’t seem to give a jot that lessons were waylayed due to baby bro popping out early with much prolonged hoohah. She is just enormously chuffed that here and now she’s reached her 25m.
Magic. Can't get that in a box from Toy Saurus.
Can you?
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