A not unsuccessful weekend, overall. Moppet was surprisingly well-behaved on the drive to the resort. With a steady supply of otherwise controlled snacks at hand and her moos playing over and over again, she was quite happy to sit in her car seat for the 3 hours it took to get there. The measure of her contentment can be gauged by the fact that she only twice attempted to assassinate her father by aiming her plastic shovel at the back of his head as he drove.
The resort was lovely. Small, with only 10 cottages, it is cosily nestled right on the bank of the River Kwai. The Thai-Dutch couple who run the place were just the right level of friendly, enough to make us feel at home, and yet not overdoing it so much as to be intrusive. Their 20 month old daughter shyly came out to meet Moppet, but then lost her nerve and buried her face in her father's legs.
The mom also came by for a friendly chat with her infant daughter in her arms and completely put me to shame by how gorgeously in shape she was, barely 4 weeks after having her second baby. Of course, that meant I spent the rest of my time around her with my face going red from holding my breath and sucking in my jelly belly (Yes, you can say it, I'm pathetic!). Other than that self-imposed discomfort, our stay there was extremely pleasant.
Moppet got into the groove of things right away. Here you can see her as she explores the cottage and pronounces it satisfactory, lounges on the veranda with her Papa, and impatiently bangs the salt shaker on the table while waiting for lunch at the open-air deck overlooking the river.
Since this was going to be my do-nothing weekend, after I had cleaned and changed Moppet, I banished her to the verandah with her father, while I threw myself on the bed and stayed there. Moppet was quite happy to potter around near the cottage with her shovel and pail, chase down some hapless ants, swallow the odd pebble or two, and make faces at me through the french windows.
On our way back to the cottage after lunch, she spotted the pool and decided she had to take a dip. Because I was looking forward to going back to do-nothing mode, I dissuaded her by pointing out that she didn't have her swimsuit on, and was astonished when she quietened down immediately. Wow, this was something - a new and improved, mature and understanding Moppet. Elated, I practically hopped and skipped back to our room, dreaming of a nice long post-lunch siesta.
Ha! As soon as we reached the cottage, the new and improved, mature and understanding Moppet headed straight to the open suitcase and rooted through it, pulling its contents out onto the floor until she found her swimsuit. Waving it in my face, she kept up a constant refrain of pool? pool? pool? at increasing decibel levels until I finally realised that there could be no siesta.
So off to the pool we went and spent a happy hour or so splashing about and waving hi to random passers by. Refreshed and relaxed (more so than if I had had that siesta, I think), we headed back, decided there was no way we could let Moppet's Papa have the siesta we missed, rudely woke him up, ignored his grumbling, and dragged him off to see the sights.
Up next: The sights, and how I got whacked by a tiger.