Chai baby

It's the little things that make a holiday. 

- Like those two men sending two cups of Turkish tea over to DJ and I while we were grabbing a little respite from the Istanbul hubbub in the courtyard of a mosque while Louis napped.

- Or Louis declaring that "Louis come swimming too" after I told him I fancied climbing down the steps from the pontoon into a very wavy sea for a swim. And coming with me. And loving it. 

- Or even our ill-advised late evening ferry over to the Asian side, which resulted in the best Turkish food we've had plus two lovely pedestrianised streets to wander through that deserve to feature in my future best buggy pushing spots in the world travel guide. 

- Not forgetting Louis dancing in the street to a busking band - and drawing nearly as big a crowd as the singers. 

- And our impromptu late-afternoon Ergo walk through the ruins of Olympos, or the "falling down houses on the beach" as Louis called them. And, more importantly, chancing on a little Anatolian shack serving yummy pancakes just as it became impossible to ignore a little voice insisting "Louis is hungry". (At 6pm. It was fair enough.) 

- Plus the tractor we spotted "resting" on the grass by the runway from our window seat on our flight to Antalya. 

- Then Louis declaring he was "floating all by myself" in the swimming pool when I finally persuaded him to try on his armbands. 

- And more dancing: this time on the beach en famille after dinner with Norman Jay DJing in the background. And those half 11 bedtimes that meant we were getting the same amount of sleep as Louis. Plus a lie-in until, oh, at least 7am and sometimes 8am. 

- And lastly two hours of pure heaven: getting Louis to nap in his buggy under the shade on the beach while I devoured Barbara Kingsolver's The Lacuna (before it won the Orange prize for fiction award I might add).

But mostly it was that cup of tea. And the second one they sent over after Louis woke up.