The third child returns.

She's home. A weekend of high wires, trapeze. big swings, quad biking and other perilous activities have taken their toll. She is now half slumped across the desk next to me, crying and stamping, moaning and sobbing. Well, her dad has brought home the wrong tea.


AAAAAAAAGHHHHHHHH!


i'M NOT SURE WHO'S GOING TO CRACK FIRST!!! HER or ME!!!!

I caught up with the ironing last night, this evenings task: more ironing. Or Disaronno on the rocks, or neat.

(Marv has changed his mind about blipping, and plonked himself in the shot, wtihout me asking).


Stroppy kids and cats. Beam me up.