Flying from Umeå to Gothenburg went as smooth as a seal swimming in olive oil. Being completely impartial, I must claim that Igge is the best baby in the world. Well, when it comes to travelling anyway. He’s a very easy going child when he’s stimulated, and when we’re on the move he’s so occupied by studying his surroundings that he wouldn’t notice if Barbapapa himself came and sat down in the pram.
Busy with the buckle. Unfortunately he also learnt how to unbuckle it… Now the era of “I’m not wearing it and I can unbuckle myself” will begin.
Once we got to the hotel they told us that they would change our rooms since we ordered a sleeping cot. Didn’t think more about that, until we actually entered the room… It was on the bottom floor with floor-to-ceiling windows facing the inside of the hotel building. Inside, but towards a giant piece of artwork. The room was ice cold and dark (since whatever sunlight that made it all the way down to us, was blocked by enormous un-understandable art) and in the corridor outside, several doors were wide open and the screams and cries of angry children hovered in the darkness like Voldemort hovering over Harry’s nightmares. I took Igge under my arm and went to ask for our old room back. Thank God and the all mighty ghost (who lived on the bottom floor of that hotel) that that room still was available – Top floor again. We got the explanation that the baby cots were stationary in the rooms on the bottom floor and therefor we wouldn’t get one – if we chose a room on a different floor. What would you choose? Top floor with a bathtub, huge windows facing the train station and bright blue skies, although without a cot for the baby, or a pitch dark room without a bathtub in a corridor of discontent, spoiled and snotty children, which has a cot?
On the left, a view from the top over the hotel windows facing inwards. Ours would have been in the middle on the bottom floor, right behind a giant screen. Meaning, we wouldn’t even get to watch the artwork – show…
We went out for lunch and went back to the hotel room to put Igge to sleep in his new, home made bed on the floor. Then we all fell asleep and got rudely awakened by my phone ringing. I picked up and on the other end of the line there was a very nice nurse who wanted to double check the time we would be there… Sheisse, I had forgotten all about it.
This is the story; just before we left for our trip, Igge was climbing some furniture and fell – right onto a radiator. At the summer house the radiators are either On, or they’re Off. If they’re on they get about a million degrees hot in the matter of a minute, they’re very efficient that way. I thought Igge not to touch them in April already and he hasn’t since. What are the odds that he would fall, land in between the table and the chair that blocks the Armageddon – radiator and put his whole arm on it?! The procedure from start to end to about five seconds but burnt his skin off his arm. Luckily my sister Mary, the clear headed nurse, was there as well and knew exactly what to do. Thank’s to that fact, Igge’s burn got as small and “kind” as it possibly could, but it still got infected. So, that’s why I had booked a time to have a professional look at his arm in Gothenburg.
Sleeping pretty well in his homemade crib. I just wonder what the maids were thinking.
We packed the snoring, drawling baby and ran. We had no idea if we were running the right direction but we ran. We could not miss this appointment and Google told us it was 45 minutes walk away so we ran. The wrong direction. Luckily, the people of Gothenburg are super helpful and an old man with an unintelligible accent stopped to show us what tram to take, which station to get off at and how to get to the medical centre. So we got there five minutes late, unable to speak because we were out of breathe from the 30 seconds of running, soaked in sweat due to the 30 degrees C heatwave and slightly smelling of fish because the man who helped us was some kind of fish monger. The Child was still sleeping though. So we had wait until he woke up. Sigh, all that stress.
Once he did wake up he saw the aquarium – actually it was the first time ever he saw an aquarium – and was instantly hooked. Some words seem to stick the very first time they’re spoken and fish is one of them. A beautiful mix of the Swedish and the English word for fish made up pishes, or he’s so clever that he knows the Latin word for fish, who knows?