Despite his being nearly seven, Titus' Rumpelstiltskin tantrum attacks are showing no signs of abating. Last week we had the boat scene. And at the weekend he decided to throw a wobbler on a precarious mountain path, on each side of which was a thousand metre drop. Just to give you an idea - "I'M GOING TO JUMP OFF THE MOUNTAIN, AND THEN I'M GOING TO PUSH YOU OFF TOO!!!!!" (I thought of pointing out the flaw in this plan, but decided against it.) He scampers off furiously, elbowing innocent bystanders aside, who can only wonder at this small demonic figure and his hapless parents. Said parents exchange glances and ask themselves where on earth they went wrong. But within minutes it's all over. A chastened Titus waits for me behind a stunted pine tree and puts a sweaty paw in mine. Would you like to have my crisps Mummy, he says, the ones I really really like but I want to give to you now? I decline - I never have liked barbecue flavour, otherwise I might have been tempted - and forgive him, as usual, for isn't that what mothers do. And I know that giving up his crisps would have been a huge sacrifice.
Luckily, good humour was soon restored, and we progressed happily along to the cable car, which I would like to say was waiting to transport us smoothly to the valley, but actually we had to stand in line for at least half an hour. No matter. The sun shone and people ignored the no smoking signs and I watched other badly-behaved children being annoying, pleased that mine were, at that moment, being models of good behaviour.
So it's back to work today. I wonder what delights will be lying in store? Gosh, I can hardly contain myself. Maybe somebody might - just might - be friendly? Better not get my hopes up though.
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