How Linnea Tried To Kill Us Both Today

Today was, again, alarmingly productive - by 9:30 I'd ond e aload of laundry and hung it on the line, there was another load on, I'd made a Very Importand Phonecall (about new nursing underwear, never mind, never mind) and cleared up beautifully after breakfast and Linnea and I had had a lovely play.

Then I went into town to go to the train station and add another episode to the increasingly dull and frustrating saga of Getting Train And Ferry Tickets To My Best Friend's Wedding. Now, I am going to attend this wedding if I have to swim and sit in a coffin while the undertaker tuts about decomposition times in June, but I think that the ferry and rail companies could be a little less obstructive. We have now, however, obtained a phone number which connected Rob to a real person who said that yes, they could book such trips, only not as far in advance as 6 weeks.

Then we had lunch and bought some drawing paper and stuff, and came home again. Linnea had a brief nap.

Then she climbed my armchair, leaned waaaaaay over the arm to reach the bookcase, flipped off it head-first backwards, did a spectacular somersault, missed the sharp-edged bookcase and the hard plastic walking toy, and landed on her head and back on the floor.

She looked a little surprised at first, and lay very still, but it obviously hadn't caused her immediate pain, unlike the other dramatic falls she's had. It's hard to get a toddler to understand "Can you move your legs? Can you move your arms? Can you feel your toes? Are you woozy?" but after a few seconds I deemed her well enough to be picked up and cuddled. She struggled away to do highly important things like unpack the under-stairs cupboard. I called Rob and he talked transport arrangements at me until my teeth stopped chattering.

She's getting better at spoons; she can manage to get food out of a jar, onto a spoon, and into her mouth now. Off a plate is harder - there's less to push against.