A few weeks ago we pretended to go on a Gruffalo hunt through our local woods.  We pointed out where the owl lives, we found a pile of logs that was the snake’s house, and burrows where the fox, and the mouse lived.  Because we all enjoyed the experience we decided to visit the official Gruffalo Trail to find the big guy himself.  The day we went it looked like every family in Cheshire had the same idea.  After searching for a parking space and then scrabbling for coins for the parking meter, we set off in to the “Deep Dark Wood”.  I suggested we go via the shop for a map, but Hubby decided to do a typical Dad thing and dismiss that idea completely*.  We set off with enthusiasm and excitement, and no idea of where we were going.

There were loads of puddles on the route, and H had a whale of a time jumping in them in his new George Pig wellies.  Some took him – and us – by surprise with how deep they were.  He certainly gave the wellies a thorough test of their water-proof credentials.  As we continued in to the wood my husband and I started asking each other in hushed voices “where were the Gruffalo attractions?”  There was very little to keep a child of H’s age interested.  We were running out of ideas and things to point out.  The exertion of all that puddle jumping had also started to kick in, and H was starting to go quiet and drag behind.  We seemed to walk for ages – far too far for a 2 year old – before coming across the Gruffalo in the woods.  By then, H was too tired and hungry to indulge Mummy with photo opportunities.

We trudged back to the car, and as soon as we were there H announced that he felt “wobbly”.  Luckily my sneaky stash of Jelly Babies helped to return some colour to his cheeks.  Before we left I popped in to pick up a map to see how far we had walked.  Lo and behold, what did I find out? I found out that there is a short route and a long route.  Guess which one we took…….BINGO.

The trip wasn’t a  complete waste though.  I got some great photos, and seeing his little cheeky face light up as he jumped from one puddle to the next was magical.  Although  a part of me can’t stop wondering if he would have been just as happy if we had created a puddle in the back garden!

Have a good week.

Love

Harry’s Honest Mummy x

*I have made a sweeping generalisation based on my own upbringing.  I lost count of the number of walks I went on with my Dad that ended up going on for far longer than originally planned because he refused to take a map!  I am certain that having a map – and admitting you are lost – are signs of weakness to the majority of the male species.