I took Matilda to get new shoes this week. We (read: "I") made the mistake of going to a shoe shop with the kids' section downstairs and no lift access. Never mind. Buggy and worldly belongings abandoned behind the upstairs till, we headed into the pink-blue-black basement and joined the (last-day-before-school-starts-gaaaah-silly-me) queue; the displays were not nearly as neat when we left as when we arrived.
As ever, I let Matilda choose her own shoes. We went home with the brightest pink Mary Janes covered in slightly paler pink flowers. We also nipped into another store where she chose lurid pink wellies. There will be no mistaking her for a boy for a while.
I can't fault her: pink is a much more appealing colour than black and navy blue (as much as Steve might argue this point); I just wish it wasn't so tied up in gender stereotypes.
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The name is perfect, anyway. The buds really do swell and rise like hot air balloons. I now want them all over the garden; all summer, our flowerbeds would look like a balloon festival, with white, pink and blue flowers puffing up all across them.
In the mean time, I have just the one balloon flower plant sitting on the mantelpiece, making me smile. There are lots of other new plants in the garden, though, but I'll tell you about them another day.
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Matilda and Sorsha spent most of the visit emptying toys onto the floor and, four days on, I've still got no idea where they hid the top of the orange Hide 'n' Squeak egg (and it's starting to really bother me).
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Obviously, I can't tell you what it is in case she somehow learns to read and navigate the internet in the next eight months, finds this blog post and ruins the surprise. Not that I worried about picking it off the shelf in front of her, leaving it lying on my bed for an hour while we played "Where's Daddy's deodorant bottle?" (under the duvet, always) or shoving it into my wardrobe while she watched. I'm making the most of this period when she has no concept of gifts.
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P.S. Polly just fished the top of the orange Hide 'n' Squeak egg out from under the sofa. Where I had looked at least twenty-seven times. Gah.
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Please play nice.