Praying to the god of ice cream

Took eldest and youngest to Luss to wade in the water and find treasure. The only treasure they found was pieces of honeycomb in their ice cream. Yes, ice cream again despite the teeth-chattering, digit-freezing cold. How can youngest's bottom lip wobble because of his excruciatingly cold fingers, at the same time as he pleads for an ice cream?

Also visited a whole bunch of birds of prey, drooled over meringues the size of my head, fed greedy gulls and ducks while picnicking and am now warm at home, with eldest and youngest dressed up as a skeleton vampire and a werewolf poacher. I love my boys to bits. They're bonkers.