Walking

My children dislike walking. Or so they tell me. It’s not that they’d rather be sitting. Far from it. In fact my eldest struggles to maintain a seated position whilst eating his dinner. With each mouthful, he’ll slowly raise himself higher in the chair, subtlety passing through the hovering stage, until you suddenly become aware that he is now standing – chair neglected and abandoned beside him. Neither can you say that they don’t like to walk because it requires too much physical exertion. Maybe this might apply to myself or their Grandmother – but for them, running is preferable to walking. I’m fairly sure when they were tiny they went straight from crawling to running (maybe taking the odd step or two somewhere in the middle).

Trying to walk even a short distance with them can be catastrophic if I refer to it as ‘walking’. They start by dragging their feet, then begin sitting down on the pavement every two metres or so (because they’ve run out of breath apparently). Sometimes they even deem it necessary to cling to the back of my coat and stop moving their feet, in the hope that mummy will use her ‘levitation’ superpower to get the big ones up the hill without actually lifting them, whilst simultaneously pushing youngest son in his pram. By the end of the walk, their method of moving forwards can only be described as resembling something out of Monty Python’s ministry of silly walks. Therefore, if we need to go for a short walk to actually get somewhere (especially if we have a certain time at which we need to arrive) we can usually be found complete with transport. Their reliance on the scooters has decreased slightly now they can ride their bikes. If wheels are not a viable option, there are a number of tactics I use to get them on the move. Here are my top five:

1) Walking along a wall or painted line on the pavement.

2) Collecting something along the way – usually daisies or some other form of interesting looking weed.

3) Turning it into a race against Mummy. Somehow Mummy always seems to lose.

4) Counting lampposts or orange things between the start point and the destination.

5) Who can be first to spot the….? Choose an object that isn’t actually there to maximise distance covered.

This is why if we’re going for a longer walk I usually use the term ‘adventure’ or ‘exploration’. I remember a time before the arrival (or invention) of youngest son when they walked over three kilometres (at the ages of 2 and 4), armed only with a selection of croissants to refuel. We were going all morning, past sheep, over stiles, along hilly paths, and through woods. They loved it. Not sure what exactly they thought they were doing – maybe the term ‘walking’ only applies if you’re on a pavement.

Communication methods

Middle son is more than capable of using words to tell me something. However, in addition to English he is also fluent in a second language. I’m yet to establish a name for it, but it basically involves obstructing Mummy in some way. This morning he strolled into my room. I asked him “How was your night?” and he responded by lying down on the floor in front of me.

This occurs frequently. Similar happened as we were coming through the front door yesterday. I requested that he took his shoes off and he promptly lay across the top step, demonstrating some kind of ‘planking’ move. He will vary it slightly depending what he wants to say. Sometimes there will be a leg in the air: other times he’ll position his arm at a peculiar angle – rivalling something from a zombie movie.

Of course there’s more to it than simply lying in front of me. For really urgent matters, he will elect to try and lie on me (preferably my feet). If I’m moving at the time, he decides the best course of action is to intercept my projected walking path. If I happen to be pushing littlest son in the pram when an vital matter occurs, then a rather complex manoeuvre is required. He stands on the wheel itself, allowing an abrupt stop to our journey and ensuring he has my full attention. It is at this point that he is able to share that important information with the whole family, that information he was so concerned we might miss if he’d just mentioned it casually in conversation. For those reading also keen to find out the message on this occasion: there was a grass on shoe.

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