Power walking

After a few days hiatus following the excitement of the General Election and its aftermath, I have finally managed to peel myself away from BBC News 24 in order to concentrate on more important things, like updating FDMTG. I must admit the momentous happenings of the last few days have had little impact on my boys despite their vital role in upholding democracy last Thursday. Although they are most excited by a coalition government between the trees and the birds. When you think about it like that it makes some sense that the Conservatives and Lib Dems should team up, their party logos work so well together.

Despite the thrills and spills on Downing Street yesterday, it was a bit of a bad day, as I found myself locked away working on various projects and have been rather suffering from cabin fever as a result. I worked out that I hadn't been out of the house apart from one school run for three days. This had the effect of making me feel rather gloomy. My remedy was to go downstairs and cuddle the twins.

At 15 months they are just so gorgeous. Still round and squidgy as babies, but with the animation and personality of the toddlers they will surely become one day soon. That said they are still firmly boycotting any move towards upright perambulation. Twin one can cruise with ease around the furniture, but try taking him out of his comfort zone and you are met with the stormy frown that presages a downpour of tears. Twin two is still working out the mechanics of standing, so I think walking is still a step too far for him.

Twins are subject to developmental delays, although I am not sure this is the root cause of their rooted state, as my eldest didn't crawl until he was 14 months and failed to walk until he was 18 months. At least this means that the twins stationary state doesn't cause any anxiety. To be honest I am not sure if it will be better or worse when they walk. Of course it will give our arms a break not to have to carry them hither and thither, but having witnessed two older twins dash off in opposite directions at top speed in a soft play area, I can see the benefits of my crawlers.

I do feel a tinge of fear at the idea of two little boys shooting off on their own distinct paths of destruction. The other day I had all four boys at the park. I felt sorry for my oldest who desperately wanted mummy to watch his acrobatic feats, but was ignored as I tried in vain to stop the twins from eating stones from the playground floor/climbing up the slide as another child hurtled down it/streaking through an impromptu game of football/crawling into the brook beside the playground/being crushed under the fast spinning roundabout. And this is while they are both still confined to their hands and knees.

This compounded the worries that had been planted the week before when we met up with a friend who has a delightful daughter who is just three months older than the twins. She is an adventurous soul and as we tried to sit and chat was intent on disappearing to explore the four corners of the (large) park, via patches of stinging nettles and lethal brambles, picking up tin cans and cigarette butts along the way. Her mum is training for a charity run this autumn, but I should imagine keeping up her little girl is exercise enough to have her match fit in time for the starters' whistle.

So while Gordon Brown takes his last steps out of Number 10, and David Cameron takes his first steps in as our new PM, we remain on tenterhooks for any sign of movement in our own hotbed of infant intrigue.