Pets and vomit

Yesterday was a bit of a game of two halves. We got to the car park at High Cross in town, starting our expedition in fine form, when Oscar vomited all over his own trousers and the car seat.

He felt much better immediately after this, so I took an executive decision. We cleaned up the car and the boy as best we could, frog marched him into John Lewis and bought him a new pair of shorts, and continued with our day, on the strict understanding that no food whatsoever was to pass Oscar’s lips at any point.

He was remarkably cheerful about this, and his new shorts, and all the attention he was getting, and it was actually not too bad a trip, apart from the fact that I had forgotten town would be full of people, because it is half term. I am not good at hordes of people all shopping. It depresses me.

Similarly, not good at queuing for food in places because, you know, people.

The place Tilly wanted to go to would have been ideal, as it was a Mexican Street Food cafe where you mostly can take stuff away and perch outside and eat. Except that it was being refurbished, and was shut.

Despite this, and the fact that we didn’t manage to get several of the items we went for, it was relatively successful. There was no more vomiting, and I did not kill any random passers by for standing in doorways, at the bottom of escalators, in front of the till having a chat but not actually buying things.

Top marks.

On the way home we made a detour to a new pet shop that had been recommended to us as being excellent for tortoise supplies. It turns out to be five minutes from our house, and utterly awesome.

Firstly they have a garden full of dinosaurs (fake, sadly), which impressed us hugely.  Then they had pygmy mongeese by the till. Pygmy mongeese who were utterly tame and wanted to hug your fingers and had small, whiffly snoots, and were just amazingly cute.

Then we discovered the mara. Mara are a relative of the capybara, but without the miserable faces. They look sort of like hares, crossed with small marsupials, and are in fact, rodents. Whatever, they were leaping around the shop and were dying to be fussed and petted.  So we fussed and petted.

The shop offers various types of experiences with the animals, and tomorrow I am taking the children to feed the mara bottles of milk, as they are still rather new.  The children could not be more delighted with this and my ranking as top mama of the century has been cemented for another half an hour until I cover myself in shame for something else.

I was trying to shape this blog post into a witty anecdote with a splendid ending, but the boy has taken a turn for the worse and has spent all day at home with a temperature, vomiting into a bowl, and I have spent four hours weeding the front drive, so wit is thin on the ground.

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