Friday 18th November 2016
Here we are back in Dubai, and its a warm one out there. Greece is behind us, JiaJia Dora is landed in Sydney, and we look forward to meeting up with Camilla and one of her babies today at Zabeel Park where a Fun Day has been arranged by The Landmark Group. After paying our 5 Dirham entry fee, at precisely 12 noon I spot Camilla and Layla behind the giant slide. Within minutes the old hens sit in a shady spot and begin the catch-up, and ten minutes later Kingsley is disappeared. The little scamp has run to another sandy play area, which one we don’t know, for there are at least seven playgrounds on the horizon.
I’m kind of OK and calm about it all since Camilla is on the lookout with me, and we have Layla calling out Kingsley KINGSLEY!! She is used to her little mate running away. We decide to walk in opposite directions; my concern being he wanders out of the park: highly unlikely though on my mind because when we walked into the park today, a toddler was lost and walking herself out of the gates. Security picked her up before she stepped foot out, I noted. Fifteen minutes later, this could be Kingsley, I’m thinking. A tiny bit of panic hit me.
Of course the rascal is discovered merrily playing on some gym equipment a wee while later. I am too exhausted and elated to scold him: what good would it do anyway I figure. So all four of us decide to explore the soft play bouncy castle extravaganza set up on the soccer field. Its huge and perfectly positioned to prevent further straying. The kids enjoy taking kicks for goals, colouring in with crayons and threading coloured pasta in the ‘creative den’ then sweating it up on the bouncing castles. Its here that we remain for hours till I am quite frankly fed up and can only soothe an hysterical Kingsley with the promise of more fun someplace else and a new present and a visit to the toy store and finally lure him out of the bloody park with an icecream. Phew.
Later on in the day Kingsley surprises me at the very toy store I promised him a visit to with a poo in his pants. There he is playing among hula-hoops and basketballs, and I hear him whimper, ‘Mumma, I want to do a poo’. No time to scoop him up and race out the store, into the huge mall corridors and find the loo hundreds of meters away: the deed is done. Mercifully in a solid state, so by the time I must deal with it, I am not barfing. Of course my pro-mum hat was on when I packed for our day this morning: three spare pairs of shorts/undies/t-shirts always in my Coach tote – necessary for this stinky lovable little runaway.