It’s funny as you grow up, you sometimes forget the joy you can get from doing something from you childhood. Last Sunday we headed off for a few days in my parents caravan in Wales and just before we left my in laws gave O a kite to take with him.
Of course, flying the kite was all he could talk about, so we promised him a trip to the beach on Monday to take it on it’s maiden flight.
There were a few tears first thing because we were going swimming before hitting the beach. A hint of the teenage tantrums to come, “YOU SAID we were going to fly my kite!” Although he soon cheered up when he remembered he quite likes the swimming pool too!
The only tiny problem was that neither of us could exactly remember how to start off flying a kite. I have memories of my dad running up and down the field near where we lived throwing the kite in the air, only for it to crash to the floor. Luckily it was a very windy day so as soon as we let go it flew high into the sky.
O was eventually trusted with holding the kite, with strict instructions to keep a very tight hold and never let go. Of course, he let it go and what followed was a ridiculous scramble from me and his Dad across the beach to catch it before it went too high. I daren’t think about the tears that would have resulted if we’d lost it.
After a busy morning of swimming, running on the beach and kite flying O was getting tired so we packed up and headed back for the caravan for cuddles, naps and a cup of tea!