Those of you that have followed my blog for a while will know that we are slightly fanatical about our family holidays at Center Parcs. Each of their forest parks are a little piece of genuine parenting heaven. If you have been you will know that the subtropical swimming paradise is incredible. We particularly like to go in the early evening when it’s quieter. The pool is lit with colourful lights and the whole place sparkles. Even the outdoor lagoons are lined with twinkly lit trees as the warm steam lifts off the water against the crisp night sky. Although for this particular story, the most interesting part happened after we got out of the pool…
*Warning – not for the faint hearted.
*Extra warning – probably not for anyone with a mature sense of humour.
…So the family went swimming, at night, in the stars.
It was splashy and wet. *Insert multiple blahs.*
The machine to be ‘human blow-dried’ was beheld.
We got out feeling damp and a touch underwhelmed.
And so into a cubicle all of us squeezed,
Still soggy and shivering, not entirely pleased,
When Miss Tot (bless her socks) felt the needs to pass wind.
She looked up at us. Paused. And then cheekily grinned…
As she let rip an outrageous cacophony.
Whilst beaming, both proudly and triumphantly.
And the only description that quite cuts the mustard.
Is that of a wildebeest.
Not a cute little fluff-bomb by anyone’s means,
But that of a cowboy. Fed mostly on beans.
We were gripped to the spot, quite unable to speak,
As the blast carried on for what felt like a week.
The silence that fell left me somewhat alarmed.
And concerned that my hearing had maybe been harmed?
But then just as I thought I’d entirely gone deaf,
I detected a snort by the door on my left.
I eyed up my tot as she grinned, pleased as punch,
And I thought “WTF did we give her for lunch?”
Then it dawned on me slowly – perhaps I’d get blamed?
So I blinked, cleared my throat, and then loudly exclaimed…
“Goodness me Little Tot!?”
“That was loud! Pardon you!”
I was slightly concerned she’d perhaps followed through…
When then all of a sudden her eyes filled with tears,
So I reached for her hand as I sought out her fears…
“I don’t smell like flowers” she wailed, mortified.
“I’m a stinky bum aren’t I?” She quietly cried.
But what could I do? You can’t take back a fart.
So I lovingly hugged her with all of my heart.
And we wandered outside in the cool evening dusk.
My tot, now deflated and merely a husk.
I reached out to the stars so unsure what to say.
But still keen to help out in my own little way.
I searched for some comforting words of advice.
A meaningful mantra of sorts to be nice,
And I said:
“Little Princess, there’s no need for shame.
We all do trumps sometimes, we’re all just the same.
And anyway sweetheart, it isn’t all bleak…
You won’t need to exhale now for close to a week!”