Just in case anyone thought that I gaily trip up to the allotment, trailing happy children in my wake, swinging our trug (what trug?) which is soon full with a bountiful harvest, all the while chattering companionably while I fill their sponge-like minds with Really Important Things About Gardening.......
The reality is somewhat....different. Today there were howls of protest from the three-year-old as we soon as we arrived at the plot. Not quite sure why, but wherever we arrive after the morning school run he seems to feel it's traditional to moan about it.
Once at the plot, the four-year-old needed a wee. So I had to bash down the brambles where our chair is and help her, all the while keeping an eye on the little one to make sure he didn't wander off.
We managed to snip some sweet peas, I lost the scissors, and the three-year-old continued whingeing: he now needed the toilet (number twos, alas. Too much information? I know, sorry).
Then he doesn't, no does, doesn't, does...so I persuaded him to eat a strawberry, hoping it might clarify matters. He cheered up and we picked some raspberries, broad beans, peas (which he tries! Yay!) and lettuce.
Then it started raining.
