An ordinary afternoon

Little Man is a film star at the tender age of 4.5 months! The other day I took both kids on A Big Adventure to the centre of town (more of which later..) where G was filming a promo video for the Milan Bicycle Film Festival. I'm officially a Bicycle Film Festival widow, by the way. Thanks to the BFF, G and I have spent approx 7.5 mins together since Little Man was born. The BFF is responsible for G almost MISSING the birth altogether. I love the BFF. Not. Anyway, in a kind of Mohammed/mountain way, G had this great idea to involve the whole family in the festival by filming a teaser video featuring a super cool guy doing scary BMX tricks while carrying Little Man in the baby sling.

Just kidding. He actually had a fake baby on his back and just carried him for real in the last shot where he cycles away from the camera, Little Man chewing on one of his blond dreadlocks
'It probably tastes of camomile,' he cooed afterwards, tickling Little Man under the chin, 'I use camomile shampoo for blond hair.'

As if this wasn't enough excitement for one afternoon, I then had to ride the tram back home before both kids turned into pumpkins. This is Italy, so about 10 people helped me get on the tram. Terrible Toddler looked aghast when smart man at the tram stop put down his briefcase and lifted her and her scooter up the steps. I was thrilled. The tram was also wonderfully empty - I must have accumulated some good Mummy karma, I thought. Half way home, the karma ran out.
'Mummy, wee-wee.'
Oh no.
'Do you really, really, really, need a wee-wee?'
'Hmmm...'
'Can you wait?'
'Hmmm...'
Silence.
'Mummy?'
'Yes Izzy?'
'Wee-wee. Now wee-wee. Wee-wee here?' (points to the floor of the tram)
'Noooooooooooooo - we're getting off!'

And that is how I found myself crouched in the road between two cars, in front of Milan's poshest private school, with the tram thundering past, holding Terrible Toddler's legs out of the way - Little Man lolling precariously from the baby carrier and the scooter slowing rolling away - while she did an enormous wee in the gutter.

And it was in that moment that it occurred to me that I've never seen an Italian mum dangling a toddler awkwardly over a drain. Do Italians have some amazing potty training secret? Do they just keep their offspring in the house till they're 100% watertight? God knows there's only about three public loos between here and North Africa. It's a mystery.

So there you have it. Film stars and weeing in the gutter: just another ordinary afternoon in the Morozzo household.

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