How to share … plus table tennis, babies, food and talk

How to share … plus table tennis, babies, food  and talk

Babies and talk

When it’s not always raining … there’ll be days like this. Van Morrison

how to share - toddler style
how to share – are the big people watching?

Some days are wonderful, like yesterday. We met in a place called AKVA at Fountainbridge in Edinburgh. Up a flight of stairs, into a large bright area and the family huddle began. In moments the really-young spotted the little persons’ play area and the older-young discovered a table tennis table across the room.

Outside a music video team shot five stars who swayed in front of their microphones.

A few yards beyond the minstrels, The Forth and Clyde Canal marina thrashed in time to the gales blasting in.

More talk

When we get together we often play a kind of musical chairs as we catch up with each other. This can take the form of standing up and talking, sitting down and talking, or a bit of both as conversation swirls around the table.

It felt really nice to spend the first part get-together with my youngest granddaughter in my arms. She snuggled her little face into my shoulder and, apart from the little contented moans from having just been fed, she proved to be the ideal accessory for the I-want-to-appear-paternal brigade.

The sense of trust imparted by a bairn made me feel even bigger than usual. My only concern was for her food to remain inside —it wouldn’t have matched my shirt for sure.

Food and talk

The good news is I was able to order a beer. The sad news is I had to hand-over the wee one to her dad so I could read the menu.

We ate and talked, great buzz. Then, down the table I watched two two-year olds exchange tastes of their ice creams. Now, there’s an example for the greedy of this world.

Table tennis?

Oh, that. The older boys were having a batter on the other side of the room. Balls flew everywhere. Dragged up to play, whilst protesting my lack of court time (as any professional would), I joined in with some enthusiasm.

Suddenly, a little person wrapped herself around my leg, expecting me to convert into some sort of human theme park ride. I put my bat down, picked her up, gave her a hug, attempted to elucidate on the need not to run around near big people who might bump in to her.

I might as well have communicated with the wall. Chases, seemed a much more important activity. Others joined in. Theme park ride and now climbing frame. Wow.

Next, time-to-go. My arms ached from hugging. My back ached from picking up wee folk and giving them a squeeze.

Happy Days …


© Mac Logan

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