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ailbheThis morning we all got up earlier than we wanted to. However. We had breakfast and washed and dressed and Rob went to work and Linnea and I pottered about. I packed the nappy bag and fetched all the library books to return and folded the slings and packed everything into the buggy and fed Linnea her snack and so on.
Then I dressed her in her red rainsuit and blue wellies, and put my stripy socks and red boots on, and found my coat, and put Emer in the buggy, and opened the stairgate in front of the front door, and suddenly had to change Emer's nappy.
So I went into the library to do that, and came out again, put Emer in the buggy, and called Linnea.
And I called her again.
And I called her again, louder, and walked through the ground floor to the bathroom and opened it. She wasn't there. I screamed her name and ran to the front door and looked out; I yelled for her twice. I checked that the stairgate to the actual stairs was closed - it was. I opened the back door and yelled for her. I ran through the house again and somehow this time I saw her -
She was lying under the dining table, behind a jumbo pack of toilet roll and a hanging coat, grinning.
I curled up on the floor next to her, face down, and gasped a bit, and then cheerfully said "Are you ok? Good - up you get, we're going out! There are -" and Linnea burst in with "PUDDLES!"
Then we went to the library and the breastfeeding group and the shops and so on, and after dinner, when we had all finished pancakes for dessert, I told Rob about it, and cried and cried.
Hiding is not naughty. Hiding is a game. I cannot ban hiding. But I really, really need to remember that she is supremely unlikely to run out of the house without my hearing the front door open, and also that she can and does hide.
She's just not usually that good at it.
Then I dressed her in her red rainsuit and blue wellies, and put my stripy socks and red boots on, and found my coat, and put Emer in the buggy, and opened the stairgate in front of the front door, and suddenly had to change Emer's nappy.
So I went into the library to do that, and came out again, put Emer in the buggy, and called Linnea.
And I called her again.
And I called her again, louder, and walked through the ground floor to the bathroom and opened it. She wasn't there. I screamed her name and ran to the front door and looked out; I yelled for her twice. I checked that the stairgate to the actual stairs was closed - it was. I opened the back door and yelled for her. I ran through the house again and somehow this time I saw her -
She was lying under the dining table, behind a jumbo pack of toilet roll and a hanging coat, grinning.
I curled up on the floor next to her, face down, and gasped a bit, and then cheerfully said "Are you ok? Good - up you get, we're going out! There are -" and Linnea burst in with "PUDDLES!"
Then we went to the library and the breastfeeding group and the shops and so on, and after dinner, when we had all finished pancakes for dessert, I told Rob about it, and cried and cried.
Hiding is not naughty. Hiding is a game. I cannot ban hiding. But I really, really need to remember that she is supremely unlikely to run out of the house without my hearing the front door open, and also that she can and does hide.
She's just not usually that good at it.