Little Fish had a lunch date today; a friend picking her up after Holiday Club and entertaining her for the afternoon. Bliss. Mog and I could have sat and enjoyed the silence, but instead we went off for a very civilised ROSY coffee morning; three girls and two Jacks and lots of twitchy giggles between them. Fun.
And then lunch with just one of the Jacks plus his mother and another temporarily child-free friend. Proper lunch (well, paninis), with actual conversation. Real, proper, meaningful conversation. I'd say uninterrupted by spilt drinks, but I spilled mine; I'd hate for it to be a truly civilised mealtime. But no need to sort squabbles or answer inane questions about why ketchup is red or how it's really not a good idea to pour yoghurt on the table and how you cannot take that chocolate bar into the children's play area and no I'm not going to put you on the rocking horse I'm DRINKING MY COFFEE. Just peaceful, calm, conversation with two peaceful and non-verbal children unable to spill any secrets shared and quite happy to be listening in.
A stroll around the garden centre and then I think we blew our cover. Despite being active child-free, we went, not through the plants and clothes and garden furniture, but to go and prod the pigs and giggle at the goats. To try to provoke the parrot into saying hello, to watch ferrets squabbling over a drainpipe and helpfully bounce each other through the trap door, and to make plans for filleting a four foot sturgeon. To go all gooey over the guinea pigs and count the chickens (after they were hatched) and shudder over the less attractive sea life.
And I'm not quite sure how it happened, but I'm wondering what it says, that even on a precious day off in August (and these are rare creatures indeed), we choose the childish things. And enjoy them.