Yesterday was a good day. I set up the painting stuff outside in the sunshine while the baby slept. It started off like this.
But canvases, as usual, were quickly abandoned. I don't know why I bother trying to constrain these freewheeling hippies.
I called time when they began to advance upon me (Teddy with a particularly evil smile. )
And they barreled inside to spend an hour in a party bath shooting each other with a water pistol.
Today was more stressful. Ted embarked on a whinging festival, we ran lots of errands and Ivy kept erupting into random bursts of anger like a tiny McEnroe. Teddy was working on a new comedy bit where he took Ivy's most precious objects, one by one, and asked 'Is this rubbish?' as he ran cackling to the bin. We did not find this as funny as he did.
At Ivy's worst point, she slammed a door so hard it came off its tracks. I shouted 'Go to your room!' to which she shrieked 'Don't you scream at me!' and so I screamed ' Well, don't you scream at me!'
But this five-year-old. She kills me. Tonight when I put her to bed, I leaned in for her goodnight cuddle. She turned her back, scrabbled under her pillow for a while and then turned to me wearing her comedy nerd glasses.
Even Gigi thought that one was pretty funny.