It was my mum’s 60th birthday over the Easter weekend, and we had a wonderful time with the glorious weather, lots of food, and a surprise visit from my brother and his girlfriend who made a last minute decision to come up from Manchester and attempt to give Mum a heart attack by leaping out unexpectedly as she arrived at our house on Easter Sunday.
Joe was thrilled and full of beans to have so many people around to keep him entertained, and he was endlessly endearing and affectionate for the couple of days of excitement (aside from a disagreement with Aunty Emma about whose go it was with the football). With an Easter Egg Hunt on Sunday, followed by a day out involving a ride on a steam train on Monday, he was a very happy bunny.
And he was, as always, consistently hilarious.
“Whose birthday is it on Monday, Little Man?”
“And do you know how old Grandma will be?”
“Well, how old are you?”
“And how old is Mummy?”
After a little prompting… “32!”
“Well, Grandma is going to be 60.”
Then, incredulous as only a three year old could be… “60?!”
Surely no-one could be so old.
“That’s a very long way away number, Mummy.”
“Yes, Little Man, I suppose it is. Grandma will be thrilled to hear how comparatively ancient she is.”
“I’ll give her lots of cuddles and treats.”
Happy long way away birthday Grandma.