"Damn It, Fiddlesticks, and Nonsense"

I'm afraid the blogs have been pretty scarce this week owing to: a) it taking all our combined efforts to keep egg out of trouble and preventing him from utterly destroying dad's condo (it is currently trashed but not totalled) and b) finding it almost impossible to separate jay from his computer despite being on holiday (i've been a computer widow for many years now).

At any rate, it's been a fabulous week. The other day when jay took off on a rented Harley for hours, Dad, Egg, Ollie and I went down to the pool for a swim. It was a gorgeous sunny day (it has been all week) and Dad got in the water with Egg and tried to teach him how to swim. They were making good progress, splashing around having fun, when all of the sudden the air was filled with shouts of 'Damn it!' followed by giggles. I wish i could say this was a one-off, but no - Egg continued to shout 'Damn it!' for the next hour or so...finally morphing his chant into a repetitive diatribe to include his other current favourites. By the end it was, "Damn it, Fiddlesticks, and Nonsense!" over and over...and over. Of course the more dad and I tried not to laugh, the louder he got, and by the end he had quite a bemused audience and there was no stopping him. (Dad later guiltily confessed to having been responsible for Egg's 'word of the day'...explaining that it had slipped out at breakfast when Egg set about systematically scrunching up his playing cards!

Later that day we gave Dad some well-earned time to himself while we returned Jay's bike and did a little shopping. We popped into our favourite used bookstore in the world (yes, surprisingly it's here in Daytona! Full of millions of books, all categorised and housed in a ramshackle mess of aisles. Lots of places for a toddler to get lost if he wants to.) It wasn't till we were paying up that we finally recovered Egg in the far reaches of the Theology section. As Jay grabbed his hand he noticed with horror a big puddle on the floor. Mortified he hauled him out of the store - hoping to make a clean getaway. As they passed the owner Egg blurted out loud and proud, "I made a big pee pee Dada!". Whoops.

I'm beginning to realise that shopping with babies saps a lot of the joy out of the experience. That isn't to say i don't still indulge, but my mind is always occupied with the whereabouts of Egg. At the Volusia mall the other day on our annual 'Abercrombie and Fitch' splurge, we were buying him a cute red baseball cap in a childrens store, and he purposely locked himself in one of the changerooms and wouldn't come out. I stood outside the door begging and pleading with him, but to no avail. Eventually it got quiet and a horrible stench emanated and I asked him whether he was making a poo poo and much to my horror he admitted he was. Luckily we've passed the short-lived but nonetheless horrific stage of 'poo-smearing', but I was severely embarrassed when the sales assistant had finally had enough and marched over disgustedly with a set of master keys. I grabbed Egg's hand and hauled him out of the store - his putrid stench wafting behind us all the way and causing people to turn and stare.

Grandpa has had suprisingly good luck this trip with keeping his bedroom off limits to Egg by declaring it the 'Stinky Room'. At first i was dubious, but it seems to have worked. Aside from his morning visitations to awake Grandpa around 7:30am for his breakfast (ONLY Grandpa can make his special gourmet cereal: cheerios, cornflakes, bananas, strawberries, blueberries and nuts), Egg has pretty much left dad one safe haven from his prying hands. Unfortunately Dad's telephone/answering machine in the front room has not fared as well, nor has his cream carpet (now littered with tons of tiny dried bits of Play-Doh stuck in the long hairs), or his games cupboard (I'd be surprised if there is even one full deck left).

I will say that we have had a most wonderful week here in Florida, and Dad has gone that extra mile several times (in fact right now he has two boys on his lap and is managing to keep Egg from smothering Ollie) to ensure that we get some relief from childcare...even if it has been to his detrement on occasion!

I don't think i'll ever forget the look on Dad's face when we pulled up to the lobby a week ago and passed Dad a sleeping Ollie. The look was pure adoration, and this week has been a much-needed chance for them to bond. Eggie too has soaked up the attention from Grandpa and has declared him 'The Best Cooker'. Given that he's been dining on my dad's famous fish curry and chicken and rice dishes all week, it stands to reason.

So it's with regret that i must go and pack up our suitcases and prepare for this afternoons departure. I'm not looking forward to going back to our London flat - exchanging this gorgeous ocean air for polluted fumes, frequenting our delinquent-ridden playgroup in the afternoons instead of playing in sand and waves, and most of all i'm not looking forward to the nine-hour plane ride. I think i'll just dose myself on powdered donuts, buzz on a sugar high and try to ignore the hostile stares from the people sat in front of us as Egg slams the food tray up and down...up and down...up and down...If we're lucky we might even get a few well-placed 'Damn-it's'.