Things have been a bit quiet on this blog for the last four days. We have been babysitting grandchildren while their parents have been away at an elaborate wedding of a close friend in another city.
Broken sleep with feeds in the middle of the night; the preschool run; changing nappies; reading books to an insatiably curious preschooler, whose favourite word is ‘why’; getting breakfast when the sun has only just risen; organising bottles of formula before a midday snooze, and before a mid-afternoon snooze (if you are lucky); having knuckles gnawed on as teeth poke their way through; trying to change day clothing for pyjamas and vice versa when both little legs are pumping like pistons; having the hair on your arms, head and eyebrows pulled to see if it comes out; playing with the dog to give him some exercise, and feeding him; finding a lost dummy; bending down to pick up a dropped toy while holding a squirming infant; bathing them; finding a suitable teething device to give knuckles a rest.
It was all go, and I was amazed that we did this stuff more or less with ease when our kids were that age. Although it is stating the bleeding obvious, looking after little kids for extended periods is only for the young, not just the young at heart. However, I wouldn’t change a thing. The love we feel for these little ones is reward enough, and overwhelming.