Holiday memories

I am currently trapped in the guest room whilst Mark puts Alby to bed. It’s the first time Mark’s done this solo for a good few weeks now and whilst I have total confidence in them both seeing as Alby has already checked the house twice to find me, I’m not moving until I know he’s asleep. The upside of this trapping is that it gives a perfect opportunity to update the blog.

I’ve just been going through a load of photos of Trouble Monkey from our recent holiday. I could provide you with a photo gallery made up of all the holiday snaps giving a day by day account of where we went and which street we walked along, but even I don’t have the motivation to do that. So instead, I just want to highlight two Alby magic moments during our week away.

Sandcastles

There is a sandpit at Alby’s nursery and, in celebration of the recent sunshine England has been blessed with, he has spent many an hour at nursery smacking the sand with a spade, flinging it over friends and burying his hands in it. With access to a sandpit every day I didn't think he would be all that bothered about sandcastles on the beach. I was wrong.

It seems that I failed to pay attention in sandcastle building school but Mark was quick to explain the basics of a perfect sandcastle - dig deep and heavily pack the sand. Whilst I'm better at sitting in the sand than sculpting it, Alby found that his niche lay in providing the penultimate magic three taps before the sandcastle was finally revealed.

The first time a sandcastle was revealed Alby spontaneously burst into a happy dance so extreme that he lost the ability to stand and collapsed backwards into the sand. Five sandcastles on and he was just as impressed - arms flapping, legs stamping and a minor dose of hyperventilating to boot.

Water fountains

The south of France loves a good water fountain. They were everywhere - in market squares, down little back streets and even adding a bit of splendour on every other roundabout. And Alby wanted to touch every single one. I've always known he was a water babe but I hadn't appreciated that his love of water extended so far as to include slightly dodgy smelling water dripping from a jagged edged, rusty pipe. Ahh well, I guess I should just be pleased with the fact that 19 months on and he's still immune to discrimination.

The fountain at the campsite had four different spouts. Obviously it was located in a central place meaning we'd pass it several times a day and obviously Alby had to not only touch it every time, but dangle his hand under every spout. And yes, every time the hand would go straight in the mouth. I'm seriously considering putting Alby forward for scientific research as he seems to have some type of super immune system.

The roundabout fountains proved a particular challenge to Mark and I are we juggled an overexcited Alby who alternated between throwing himself off the pavement in an attempt to get across the road to throwing himself onto the floor and bursting into tears each time we saved him from on coming traffic.

The pinnacle of the fountain loving occurred in the beautiful town Pezanes where we discovered a floor water fountain. Alby simply did not know what to do with himself. Torn between stamping on the water jets, bashing them with his hands or head butting them he essentially settled on doing all three. No doubt the highlight of his holiday and certainly, combined with the sandcastles, the highlight of ours.