A note: when you are putting a disco wig on the baby it is time to go home from the party. Perhaps, if I may, a little past time.
Folks, let's file today under Experiments I Have Done So you Don't Have To. Perhaps you have been wondering lately whether you should throw back a few wines for the first time in about a year and then spend the following day with three small children? I know it feels like a fun plan. But it is really not.
Ivy chose this morning to badger my shaking, toxic fingers into teaching her how to make houses of cards. Yep. They all fell down.
But it was Teddy who took his naughty pills. He was happy for a while playing Babies,
and practicing his writing, pen clutched like a fat spear,
but mainly, he seemed to spend his day engaged in low-grade, domestic warfare. He weed on the floor three times. Copiously, freely. 'Why? Why are you doing this Ted?' I said. 'Because I am!' he replied with a little happy dance. Twice we caught him carefully dribbling on the furniture. When scolded he insisted 'I'm not spitting! Iss a spoo! Iss spoo Mum!' and when sent in disgrace to his room, wailed 'But iss a spooooooo' all the way down the hall.
Why he thinks that methodical, concentrated vomiting on the furniture is not naughty is a question for another time and perhaps a professional psychologist.
George has been a bit grumpy. But mostly perfect in every way as usual except for the part where she is a small baby who requires feeding and can't walk to the toilet or make Mum a cup of tea to ease her troubles. Today is one of those days where I long to be single. Oh, for Eggs Benedict at a cafe with two strong lattes and the whole Herald and a free afternoon in which to catch a movie or just go back to bed...
Still. Game of Thrones, Episode 1, on the couch tonight with the K-Dog. We have a date in ten minutes and I am very excited. It may just turn my whole day around.