On the car journey to the farm our little toddler repeated all the animals we were going to see. ‘Horsey, sheep, moo, duck, Toby (the rabbits)’. Once we arrived he had one word in his mouth ‘horsey’. I thought this is fantastic, he’s learnt to say lots of farm animal names, he knows what they are, he should be easily pleased. I let him take the lead as to what he wanted to see and where he wanted to go.
‘Horsey’ was still the talk of the toddler once we walked through the entrance. Low and behold, there stood a gigantic horse in it’s pen, right outside the entrance. I though brilliant, we’re on to a winner here, this attraction will hold his attention for a while. ‘Look, horsey’ I said in my most delightful tone. ‘no, no’ he replied and walked straight past. No? What does he mean no? He walked over to the cows in the barn and had a moo-off with them for a while.
After we left the barn, I let him carry on taking the lead. This meant us walking around the barn a numerous amount of times before taking a detour towards the goats.
Which he had no interest whatsoever in seeing.
‘Horsey, horsey’ he carried on asking. I thought maybe the first horse was too big? So we went to the stables with donkeys and Shetland ponies.
He will be impressed with these, they’re small, he can stroke them, perfect!
‘No no’ he kept saying and walking off with little interest. What’s no? They are horseys. You asked for horseys and I delivered.
He went to the bunny section instead. All rabbits are known to him as Toby or ‘toe’ as he says it. This is because of our rabbit (who his grandparents decided they would keep) is called Toby. But we understand what he means.
In the rabbit section our toddler decided he would educate other visitors as to what these are really called. Confusion spread across everyones face when he was declaring they are all ‘toes’. I just smiled when everyone looked up from him to me. Yes, they are ‘toes’.
He decided he wanted to see some ‘chi chis’ next. Which is code for chickens. We wandered round to their pens and he tweeted at them (not in the social media form of course). Once they ‘clucked’ back at him, sheer panic set in and he made a dash for my leg. I quickly shook him off and explained they’re just saying hello. This was bloody hilarious to him. A chi chi saying hello? Whatever next? A horse that’s actually a horse. Stop it.
By this time the baby was getting annoyed that we kept stopping. So instead of singing in the stroller, like she had been, she started growling and grunting instead. Lets keep it moving guys!
We wandered across the fields towards the play park. Only, I couldn’t get in the play park with the double stroller so I knew shit was about to get real.
And sure enough, it did.
He spotted the park, he saw the swings, I was swearing at myself in my head.
I tried to hide the park from him by blocking view with the stroller. Out of sight out of mind. What a stupid idea he’s not an idiot, but I clearly am. So instead I used the stroller as a blockade, to stop him venturing across the path to the entrance. He tried, he stamped his feet, he threw himself on the floor, he shared his excellent screaming skills with everyone. But, this did work. Although, I looked a little like a drunk mum trying to run her son over. I’ll take that.
We walked through a wooded area and guess what we were greeted with – another play park!
This play park was for older children, but there were no slim gates to enter, so we did. He played mainly on the hills. Climbing up and sliding down, scraping his new dungarees with grass stains. His next adventure was to not just climb up the hill, but to disappear down the other side of it. My heart immediately jumped up into my throat. He’s going to be kidnapped, I panicked. I couldn’t get round the sodding hill because of this bloody obstacle course in the way of the buggy. Then slowly his head emerged from the other side, as he climbed back up the hill.
Here is said hill
He had fun on the obstacle course, up and down the hills. Then he spotted something new. Something shiny. Something that no child ever should be allowed to play in.
It was a large maze, made up of small metal tunnels. Similar to something a hamster would use. It had only three entrances, it had no vision panels to see where your children are and it was not big enough for an adult to crawl around in. Not that any parent would have much shitting luck finding their child, it being a maze with no vision panels and all.
This structure was in his eye line now. He climbed to the other side of the obstacle course, the side I couldn’t get to with the buggy, without taking a long detour. I’m screaming his name to come back. I turned into ‘that mum’. He got much closer to the entrance, my heart raced. I ditched the buggy and ran towards him. Other parents looking at him and me, knowing why I was running, and giving me sympathy smiles. Just grab my son, please!
He’s gone. He’s in the tunnel.
Just as I was about to call the reception of the farm I heard ‘mummy’ with a huge smile on his face he ran over. Probably proud of the heart attack he almost gave me and the embarrassment along with it.
Makes a mental note never to come to this play park again.