Today we are taking our builder through the restaurant space we are considering taking over which is all sorts of exciting and grown up and serious and small-business-like, but we are also taking Q with us which is all sorts of stupid.
I’ve mentioned before my child’s unwillingness to sit placidly in her chariot and be pushed around while all her favourite people walk free around her.
Why can’t I explore and follow my whimsy? Must I be subjected to following yours instead?
You can’t walk yet Q, which means that some surfaces – like restaurant kitchen floors – are not ideal for you to go crawling about on.
But mother, I don’t put my knees down, there is no danger I’ll wear out my clothes.
True daughter dear, but I’m not sure it’s all that clean.
If you don’t let me out, I’ll kick and flail and scream and yell my frustration until you do. And it should be well established by now that my stamina and threshold are far greater than yours.
Also true my darling child, I shall of course grant your request.
I know this is what will happen today, and this should also explain to well-meaning friends why cafes and restaurants are no-go zones for Q until she’s approximately ten.
The upside to this excursion is that we’re taking a posse with us.
One brother who finds himself at loose ends today is tagging along, and another brother and his girl and her brother are going to have a snoop too. (She’s heading OS today, so my brother has used it as an excuse to make a few well timed phone calls, answer a couple of key emails but actually take the entire day off work).
Work smarter not harder sis, he’s always telling me when he knocks off at 1pm.
The builder is a mate of our dad’s and we’ve grown up with him renovating our laundry and roping you into holding the hammer so you’re a captive audience to his many conspiracy theories.
Seriously, he should be on talk-back radio. Although, giving his ideas a public forum could be very dangerous indeed.
So off go Gregory and I, about to undertake the biggest professional decision of our lives (I consider packing my bags and moving to NYC to perform, a mere dip of the toe into the pool of big decisions in comparison to opening our own restaurant) with two brothers, one pseudo sister-in-law, one pseudo sister-in-law’s brother, one non-compliant child, one mad builder and an unfailing sense of optimism.
What could possibly go wrong?