I suspect this week away from her adoring family has been more taxing for Squirrel than she expected. Ten minutes after seeing us she bursts into tears and says she dropped her trainer off the fire escape six days ago during a fire practice and it is on a roof. Daddy Dig goes off to retrieve it, which he discovers is quite straightforward if you are an adult and can see a ladder, and then he suggests it would have been very brave of her to ask that a group leader did this very thing moments after she dropped it.
Squirrel blubs fulsomely and mummy Grit is both mortified to think that all week her daughter has had to hop, and gratified to think she had the presence of mind to pack at least three different changes of footwear.
And then, all happiness and footwear restored, Shark and Tiger engage in the ritual that is the Triplet Greeting.
Running full tilt at your sister to rugby tackle her legs, knock her to the ground and then engage in an unseemly scrum rather resembles a reenactment of The Battle of Bosworth. Which is just what I tell the surprised passers by.
3 comments:
Just caught up on the last 3 posts or so, Grit. And gosh do I know how you felt in 1st... (though for the time being Husband is having to fly cattle - and boy, does he miss the trimmings. Though of course he would never admit to it!)
Got to love those sisterly love-fests.
Must have taken for ever to comb all the knots out after that scrum!
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