It's not a sunny day, in fact it's teaming with rain and threatening thunder as she works her way through a Cottage Pie dinner with two spoons (used in rotation) and her sunglasses perched on her nose. The things that keep them contented!
It doesn't end there. Fast forward to bath time when she's refusing to cross the threshold to the bath when out of the blue she decides tonight's the night for a jolly good trot on her rocking horse Dominic. Dominic the Donkey alternatively known as Karl the Pony, (depending on whether you're me or Matt the Husband) is often overlooked in favour of Iggle Piggle and Upsy Daisy. I digress. My point is he's not in her Top Ten of Toys.
So there we are, rocking away in the bedroom with the bath going cold, not because she LOVES Dominic, NO, just because she knows it prolong her path to bed. With a little persuasion, we agree she will go in the bath if she can ride Dominic to the bathroom. Deal struck, I push Grace, sat on Dominic, to the bathroom.
Just as I think I'm on the home straight, Grace, now in bath washing herself with a flannel gestures for me to get on the horse. She yawns and gives me a toothy grin.
As I'm cantering along in the bathroom, tackling Becher's Brook with questionable finesse using a tooth brush as my whip, I reflect my four hand high rocking horse is worth his weight in gold. Another over-tired bedtime tantrum averted.
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