LOUD? US? WHY THANK YOU SIR!
We couldn’t wait to hit the pool on our first morning in Majorca. The sun heated our breakfast terrace up nicely, fidgety children ate their fresh watermelon and pastries at an unbelievable speed before jumping up and down “please can we get we get in the pool? Now please? Pleeaaseee!”
I jumped at the chance, and launched my new bikini clad self into the beckoning cool water.
I chased our three big water babes around the pool, practiced dolphin style swimming, pretended to be mermaids and squeeled with delight as they jumped onto my back for a “taxi ride” around the pool. We jumped, we bombed, we splashed and we laughed. THIS is the life. A pool all to ourselves, in a lush green garden, the Mediterranean sun heating my not-seen-the-sun-for-several-years milky colored post natal body nicely. I felt a rush of energy pour over me just watching the excited little faces of my nieces and children, as I threw them up in the air and chased them around the pool with our brand new water squirters.
I spotted a silver haired man, walking towards us with a smile on face, and proudly continued our delightful game in the pool, thinking to myself “Dude, I don’t blame you, they ARE particularly cute looking children. I’d smile too, if they’d suddenly entered my otherwise far too quiet, but beautiful pool and garden setting”.
“You have the loudest children” he said, smile still firmly planted across his face.
I beamed. I could not have felt prouder. “Why thank you!” What a fab compliment.
“They really are VERY loud. There is one in particular who keeps squealing VERY loudly”.
Was that sarcasm I could detect in his tone of voice? I had to stop, two children hanging on to each an arm, and one dragging with their arms and legs wrapped around my leg. I felt confused, and suddenly noticed his smile was not one of a friendly nature.
“There are people trying to actually enjoy their holiday here, you know, and you are ruining this for us, by letting your children play so loudly.”
After politely telling him it was the first day of our holiday, and we were all excited, and though we would try not to disturb him TOO much it was quite likely that we’d be making some noise over the next couple of weeks. Best just to honest, I reckoned.
On a holiday high we all giggled and smirked behind the snobby, posh guy’s back the rest of the day. “Who did he think he was anyway? And how silly of him to come here on holiday, knowing there was a chance there might be children around.. And how could you not think our children were anything but completely, utterly and totally cute?” (like I said; total holiday high..)
Until a second neighbour launched a complaint against us on our second morning. Double oops.
So here we are, reporting from sunny Majorca with the loudest kids the island has ever seen, complete with huge inflatables, must have straw beach mats and a few parasols that mean most people on the beach give us a wide berth when they see us setting up our daily camp, nursing burnt shoulders, eating more ice creams and having more fun than we could ever have imagined, and much to our neighbours’ disgust, enjoying every little minute.