With our family holiday fast approaching, I am reminded of last years journey ….. 


Day one.

The Ferry journey; surprisingly successful. No one was sick and Miss M didn’t have a nervous breakdown (partially helped by her ‘how boats float’ notes she’d made the night before.)

The 4hr car journey that followed, was a mixed bag. Lots of “Are we nearly there yet?” “Can I have another tic tac?” and “Mummy, she’s annoying me,” as well as a small fortune spent on toll roads!!

The lunch stop, however, was in a league of it’s own….

After a few minutes of me and Adrian arguing over who was going to make the first food order in French, we all sat down with a box of chips. (Yes, our French really is THAT good!)

Half way through our chips, and after twice retrieving an hysterical Miss A’s arm from the slats in the chair, Little Miss did, what can only be described as every Parents worst nappy nightmare….. a little in the nappy, a lot up the back!

So, carefully holding her at arms length to avoid any contact with my white hoodie (clever choice of clothing for me again then!) I located the ‘baby changing.’ I entered a twin changing room and began the task…… badly.

On peeling down her trousers, I somehow lost my grip and the elastic pinged against her back, sending baby poo flying up into the air. I resorted myself to the fact that I was going to get covered & prepared for impact.

However, by some miracle, I turned around to see it had missed me….. but not the floor. Or the walls. Or the hand dryer. 😳

Just as I discovered this (and gave a loud sigh of relief) a French women entered the changing room with her son.

Little Miss began waving with her usual “I’m so, so very pleased and excited to meet you” wave and smile.

And that was it. The floor, the walls, the hand dryer, this little girl before me plastered up to her shoulders in poo, grinning from ear to ear, frantically waving, just somehow tickled me.

I then proceeded to change Little Miss, with tears rolling down my cheeks and occasionally letting out a little snort, as I tried not to break in to full on hysterical laughter.

Goodness knows what this poor French women & her son must have thought, but I like to think I represented British Motherhood rather well. 😊

Best of Worst