For whatever reason, my 23 month old daughter has never fully grasped her own name. Sure, she responds to it, but if shown a family photo, she enthusiastically says "mummy...daddy..." and then stops short. We point to her image in the photo and say, "who's that Megan, is that you?", which earns a nod but nothing else.
Until now.
You see, she has finally been convinced that her name is YOU.
Mummy...daddy...you, she says beaming and proud.
Oh well. One step at a time.
We took her to a farm today, near High Wycombe. It cost £9 each to get in, which I thought was a little steep. Growing up there was a farm close by and you could just climb over a gate and get in - there were no people on the doors stamping your farm passport back in the day.
One of the highlights was Sheep Racing. Not as fast as dog racing, or as powerful as horse racing, but watching big woolly sheep running around a track & jumping over fences was pure Adrenalin.
My money was on 'Fleece Lightning' or 'Lamb-borghini', but in the end they finished a disappointing 4th & 5th out of 5.
Thankfully you were only allowed to bet using farm dollars, otherwise I might have lost a serious amount of cashish.
After the race I was going to make a joke about needing a stewards enquiry, but by the time I had thought of it everyone had left.
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