Yes, it was every bit as wonderful and luxurious as those sentences sound.
We hired a longboat, and told the guy: "Take us to beaches on islands." And he did and we swam and lay on our backs looking at the blue sky through the pine trees and wriggled our toes in the sand and ate corn cobs roasted over open beach fires.
We visited James Bond island where S. re-enacted the entire sequence set on the island for us and where E. charmed all the Muslim sales women with her undiluted enthusiasm for their wares and their chairs. "Sit! Sit! Sit down!" she'd command me, while grabbing at all shell-lined necklaces in sight.
Then we went to a villa with a view to die for, enough space to house two families and private, partially shaded balcony where E. could run free (read: naked) while we lounged in the lounge chairs. Or the hammock. Or the deck chairs. Or just the cushions on the floor. We hired two mopeds and zoomed around the island, visited the nature park, the old town ("blink and you'll miss it", according to the Lonely Planet), the sea gypsy village of Expeditie Robinson fame and some more beaches. We ate lots of Thai food, the best in a roadside shack, and I even learned to make some of it myself. (For those of you on whom I have inflicted my previous green curry concoction: you can actually taste the new one.)
E. managed to nap in the babycot provided in the villa (though it took us the better part of an afternoon to convince her of the use of sleeping - still, the staying put in one place thing really works), she napped extensively on the mopeds while wearing the cutest red helmet which she took a fierce liking too and which had to be prised out of her hands upon leaving (she's still asking for it two weeks later and she still tries to climb on all motorcycles in sight, including fierce Harley Davidsons) and she discovered the joy of a sea breeze on her unclothed bum.
Oh, it was generally wonderful.