I’m feeling quite emotional. We’ve just got back from our last ever day out as a family of four. Nothing exciting – we took the boys to Clown Town (an indoor soft play area, which is totally hideous on a Saturday afternoon, but there you go) followed by the cinema to see Bolt (yet another mediocre animated kids film, but the boys enjoyed it, so that’s the most important thing). It was too cold to do anything outdoors, and anyway Ursula really can’t do anything that involves anything other than sitting down.
But it’s not the quality of the entertainment that’s at issue here, simply the act of spending a day together, just the four of us. It’s something we’ve become so used to over the last three years, that it’s really hard to believe it won’t ever happen again. I’m sure there will be times, at some point, where the babies will go their grandparents and we can have some quality time with just Jacob and Max, but it will very much the exception rather than the norm it has been in recent years. This is all hard stuff to get your head round.
Fourboding 