Of the non-pictorial kind.
One four year old child, discovering the joys of an overhead hoist with buttons to take her from one end of the track to the other. One four year old child, left hanging over a toilet, discovered having escaped not just the toilet but the whole bathroom, now hovering over another child's bed. "Get back into the bathroom please" didn't seem an unusual request.
The response? "But I wanna poo in the boy's bed. Why I not poo in the boy's bed?" Really?
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One woman pushing two children in wheelchairs. One woman pushing one boy in an excruciatingly awful to push wheelchair. One man pushing another boy in a large wheelchair. One crowded small town full of tourists and locals, all enjoying the sights.
One woman bravely breaking free from the crowd and crossing over to us. Ignoring the woman with the madly uncontrolled chair, and the woman with the wildly uncooperative tandem of chairs, she leaned in towards the man, brushed his arm, and told him how wonderful he was to be doing this.
We can only assume she thought the two women were inmates not fellow parents...
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One hill farm, turned into a chocolate factory, visited on the wettest day this month. One hill farm with partial wheelchair access, including beautiful ramps carefully constructed under the duck pond. One shin height puddle between us and the chocolate.
Two very wet carers.
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One small child, four days later, still wanting to know why she can't poo in the boy's bed.
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One week, two families, three friends, four children, five jam doughnuts, six tubes of Pringles and seven good days. No photos from me because my hands were somewhat occupied, but a resounding audio memory built up of electronic singing beeping children's toys, Mog's music, Little Fish's "why why why?", the Wahooligan's Wahoos and a quieter child's "Hmm".
Next year we might make it into the water.
Tia
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