Busking on a Bench

Today, I'm tired. Since waking I have been engaged in constant negotiations with this three year old over every aspect of our day so far. I feel that Sir Alan would be very disappointed with me today.

Here we are, making our way at a singing snails pace, to the dentist. An incident at nursery last week resulted in knocking a tooth loose and we are on our way to check out the fate of the tooth. Edinburgh is icy today and so I vetoed all methods of independent travel for my daughter. Cue a large amount of foot stamping, whys and whining. I'm trying to be gentle as her last visit wasn't very pleasant so I finally agreed to travelling on foot with constant guitar accompaniment. Geriatrics cackled as they overtook us walking on the pavement. Well I'm not sure if their glee was being made to feel spritely in comparison to our pace or the sight this travelling band of troubadours of one frozen and harassed mother on accompaniment and one toasty preschooler jumping in muddy puddles singing her heart out for all to hear.

After refusing to sing a song about poo and for insisting that today I shall be known as mummy and not Dracula (the accent was killing me), I am back in the dog house (again).

I'm hoping that my methods of comfort and distraction will make our visit to the dentist a calm and soothing one. I have to win one round today.