El Ratoncita Perez

We wait outside the dentist, a little too early to walk through the doors, mulling over the braces that were about to be put on A's teeth. She's growing fast my lovely A, with puberty up and running, secondary school under way, wandering around shopping centres with her friends - and now some metal train tracks on her sticky-outy teeth.

"Lot's of people in my class say the Tooth Fairy doesn't exist and that the parents give you the money!" says P, the savvy child and over two years A's junior.

"Tell me the truth Mummy, is there such a thing as the Tooth Fairy?" demanded P.

I don't like telling lies to my kids, the whole Father Christmas thing has never lain that comfortable with me, but I want them to work it out for themselves without the magic being destroyed.

"What do you think?" I turned it back on them, to mull over the improbable facts.

"Well she must be real," replied A "she wrote me all those little notes!"

It's true, I wrote little notes thanking the children for their teeth, in fairy handwriting, telling them that their pearly whites would be used to make miniature tea-sets and the like.

We made our way into the surgery where the dentist measured and took gummy moulds of A's teeth. A wobbly tooth needed to come out so the dentist presented A with the option to yank it out now - or she could wiggle and wobble it out herself at home. The latter option was obviously preferable. The dentist presented her with a tiny pink mouse shaped box, for her tooth to be placed in when it fell.

Why the mouse we asked?

And the dentist proceeded to tell us all about El Ratoncita Perez, the little mouse who collects children's teeth and shines them into pearls - and for that privilege he leaves a gift where the tooth once lay. Which kinda blows the Tooth Fairy out the window.

Both children looked perplexed. They remembered teeth falling out in Spain and the Tooth Fairy HAD been.

"I know! It's because we are English, the Tooth Fairy still comes to us but now we have bought a house here and we are residents of Spain, maybe Ratoncita Perez will come instead. I must write him a note in Spanish!" A says excitedly as she starts to encourage the tooth to fall out.

Poppy looked at me incredulously.

"Really Mum, I'm confused - who TAKES our teeth?"

I guess we will just have to wait and see.

My family and other animals

I awake, aware of a ginger cat staring at me, willing me to open my eyes. As soon as I do, I am pestered to feed the first hungry mouth of the day. The fattie catties enjoy their routine and branded cat food, still sticking up their pompous noses at the 'foreign muck'. The kids pour cornflakes in a bowl and munch on magdelenas but forget to hydrate themselves and he enjoys a coffee if I'm making one.

Oy, feed me

We roll down the mountain in new school uniforms and holding chopped carrots, ready to feed the horses, who wait patiently for the sound of my car to arrive. Breakfast is wolfed by Spot and lingered over by Kira. The stray cats and kittens skirt my feet gingerly, asking for food but careful never to get too close. Three kittens, one mother and a cat-with-no-tail are fed and watered, relieved that they found such a nice place to be wild in. They lick their paws gratefully, I like to believe, and wonder off for a snooze.

She's wild, tiny and full of worms or kittens again

Spot - the hungriest pony in the world

I drop the kids in their school and shove a pastry in my mouth before heading half way up the mountain to two horses, two ponies and one tiny lamb. All with rumbly tummies. Feeds are fed, haynets stuffed and a bottle of milk made.

And as I watch with wonder as the little lamb gulps down his milk, shoving his pink nose hard at the teat willing more milk to flow - I can't think of a finer way to start my day.

Nurturing 

Summer of '17

I slept without a fan and reached for a sheet to cover my body last night. It must mean that summer is waning and autumn is ready to be welcomed with open and loving arms. Oh boy, what a summer it was too; days and days, weeks and weeks, even months and months of boiling hot, stinking, searing, blistering heat. Goodbye summer, we have had a blast, but autumn cannot come soon enough.

The summer holidays are coming to a close. The uniforms have been bought and shoes purchased from my favourite little shoe shop in Magaluf, next to a pumping techno bar, in front of vomit and behind a beach which has seen some action. A sweet Spanish family sort us out with some sensible back-to-school shoes amongst the wild and chaotic party town. We celebrate with burgers and yellow food, watching the stags, hens and hangovers go by - warning my near-teenage daughter what not to look for in a boyfriend. I fear I may be worse than her father.

And as the temperature drops and the clouds appear we reflect on the best summer of our lives. Days and days of freedom and bare feet. Of swimming, learning to dive and countless back flips. Of insects, geckos and tortoises. Of ponies, donkeys and cantering around with wide grins. Of snorkelling, rock jumping and crusty hair. Of moonlit skies, romantic dinners and watching our favourite lizard nightly. Of late nights, early mornings and stolen siestas. Of friends so dear, giggles and hugs. Of very few tears, arguments and squabbles.

Thank you Mallorca again, you are one special place.