Natural birth control

Two-year-olds are so frigging cute it’s almost criminal. They’re also the most effective birth control on the planet when they don’t belong to you. That’s because they cry about absolutely everything. They cry because they are tired. They cry because they are hungry. They cry because they want to take their shoes off. They cry because their shoes are off. They cry because you won’t let them fill the pool filter with stones. They cry beacause you stop them kicking/punching/hitting/biting other children. They cry because you make them share. They cry just because. They do the crying very, very loudly. They do it so loudly that you feel obliged to mime to random French people that they are not your child, just in case they expect you to take some responsibility for them destroying market displays. Ok, some context. We went to a local market in a town called Lezignan today. It was filled with the usual hideous Chinese-manufactured crap that populates markets everywhere – socks, undies, cheap jewellery, Gucci rip-offs … But it also had lots of wonderful barrels filled with lots of wonderful olives. Plus giant pans bubbling with paella, stuffed squid and other delicacies. As we had lots of small, cranky children to feed, we stuck to tried-and-true barbecued chicken, bread
and chocolate croissants (plus a sneaky tub filled with
garlic, tomato and black olive tapenades …. Mmmmmm). While
the rebel in us wanted to sit at a market-side cafe and spot pick-pockets, the realists retired to a nearby lake, where
the various Sprogs had an absolute ball playing on the
travel guide promised “white sand” beach while the adults
shooed wasps from the food and took turns to rest their
weary bones on the esky in the only shade – a dirt
track leading to the life-saver rescue station.
LAST NIGHT’S MENU: Another generous serve of spag Bol,
washed down with 4-euro-a-bottle red wine. Bliss.

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