Beach Frolics

A fine day for babysitting but the wee one wasn’t at her best. As I pushed her towards the seaside, along the avenues of cherry blossom trees, she would occasionally let out a girn, whereupon I would crouch down beside her and ask her if all was OK. I could see it wasn’t - usually I’m rewarded with big grins for doing simple things like peering over my glasses, or lifting them up and down quickly a la Eric Morecambe. Not on this occasion. Can she already have become unimpressed at my limited repertoire?
After a play and a nap we went over to the beach where we found a certain Amy, there with her mum, only too happy to distract the wee sprog. I hope I’m not responsible for a sudden disdain for cute stripey clothes and a love of trackies. 
And later as I wheeled her home, again, the outbreaks of crying. As we met her mum down those same tree lined streets we puzzled at her wee unhappy face. She pulled at the side of her wee hat. I wonder if she’s got earache, I mused aloud.*


* The following day I receive a text: Ear infection confirmed btw! Just back from GP. 

Not like me to get something right.