|a common sight in our home|
So now, much like a rejected model on her first two promising castings, we now feel like we'll never grace the cover of Vogue, but rather end up asking, for the next thirty odd years, "Do you want fries with that?"
Last night was a tough one actually, so perhaps that's contributing to this rather negative train of thought. Squit broke the nib off of the husband's beloved fifty quid fountain pen, got his hand caught in the clips of the battery charger for the camper van and managed to re-graffiti the bespoke white cupboards we just paid a handyman £100 to repaint four days ago, with impossible to remove oil pastels no less.
As if that weren't enough, I diverted near disaster yesterday on the tube when I foiled Squitty's attempt to chuck a set of our rental flat keys onto the tracks when it emerged that he'd somehow squirrelled them away in his 'pocketses'. But the REAL disaster is that the Fat Baby has managed to lose our ONLY set of keys to the back terrace. Which is currently steel bolted shut. So that means that should we be lucky enough to have further viewings of this place, the estate agent will sadly have to gesture to our huge back terrace with a flippant wave of his hand and say, "All this could be yours..." but I'm afraid I can't show it to you today.
Saying that, you know that old saying, "Beneath every cloud is a silver lining"? Well thanks to various members of my beloved family all mucking in self-sacrificially, it emerged yesterday that this year, as a one off, the husband and I get to venture to Glastonbury alone this weekend. I can scarcely believe it myself.
Of course it also means that my sister and her husband, soon to become parents for the first time later this summer, have put a humungous deposit in the Bank of Tomorrow by way of ensuring that at some point in their parental future, should they desire a weekend sans bebe, they have merely to deposit their little sprog outside our door (probably here, where we'll no doubt still be living), ring the doorbell, and bugger off.