I’m suffering from Park Fatigue; Janet, Conjunctivitis and Tonsillitis; Sonny, a Fever; and poor Luca is just suffering us all, yet in the delirium we decided to catch a train to the Museum of Science & Industry today?
Luca slept, Sonny played for a few minutes, we ate, cursed the school holidays, and were on the train home within the hour.
With the prospect of having to watch back-to-back Kerwhizz all afternoon, we decided instead on a trip to Manchester Airport. Not the Viewing Park, that would have been logical, we went for the Departure and Arrival Halls? We saw three planes. All distant, all arrived, all obstructed by car-parks.
Janet and I walked between terminals.
The boys however ran, jumped, slid, and played their way through a wondrous glass tube of neon lights, sloping glass walls they could press their faces against, and walkways, dozens of walkways… that moved!
It didn’t start so well for Sonny. I asked him to hold my hand, he’d seen floors that moved. I asked him to walk beside me, he’d seen floors that moved. I asked him to wait…
He cockily strode onto the walkway then immediately had second thoughts. As his leg disappeared he suckered his hand and face to the glass side, and with his remaining hand left clutching at thin air he screeched along for half a walkway before Janet had stopped laughing long enough to go and rescue him. I would have helped sooner but I had Luca by the hand and he was doubled over wetting himself with laughter, literally.
I’m not sure the Airport will appreciate the recommendation, but there’s half a mile of Toddler Treadmills between those terminals, all for the price of a car-park. I’ve promised Sonny we’ll go back and walk it at night. I was excited, and I think he would have been too had he not still been smarting over the fact that clocks can go back, and just because Daddy says so?