'I' is for 'Irritated in Ikea'

Today's post title was decided earlier today over coffee with a friend. 'Ice cream in Ikea.' Sounds very civilised doesn't it? Only I didn't take into account that going to Ikea with three children in tow is a bloody nightmare! By the time her father and I (yes, it took two of us!) had shoe-horned Lola into a trolley, stopped Freya from jumping on every single slightly springy surface she could find, and listened to incessant chants of 'I want one of these Mummy', 'Look at this Mummy', 'I want a drink Mummy', 'I need the toilet Mummy', I was, unsurprisingly, in no mood for buying anyone ice cream. In fact, it's a small miracle I didn't just abandon them all once we reached the children's section. Nevertheless, Freya did (just) make it out alive to tell the tale of her day. She was still in a hyperactive mood when I recorded her, as you might tell from the latter half of today's video. And I'll apologise now for the finger-up-the-nostril incident. What can I say? She's no lady.