4th of January

 

Can you spot the children in the photo above?  The post-camping playroom minefield is pretty common around here.  When we've been away Harriet likes to re-connect with every single one of her toys by creating a massive, detailed and long-lasting story with them all.  This one was a hospital with different toys having different ailments with different visitors and a visiting hours regime and communal luncheon (as is captured above).  Luckily this kept them occupied while I got down to the business of washing and washing and washing. 

 

Harriet managed to start up again with her violin practice after leaving it for an embarrassing number of weeks.  She was slightly taken aback at how quickly her skills had taken a slide without regular attention, so we got back to basics and made sure she felt comfortable enough to at least make a start of it each morning before starting back up at lessons next week.

 

This was Harriet's suggestion - a milk moustache photo!  Who could resist?  Don't you just love all those missing teeth?  She'll never have a smile quite like it ever again...well, maybe in her nineties.

After my washing was done, sorted and packed away (I'm a bit anal about organising things after a trip away, I can't stand them cluttering up our small house any more than is absolutely necessary), we all headed over to see Lou's new interim house.  

Harriet, for whom the term 'moderation' is seen as a blight upon the culinary landscape, managed to consume five passionfruit.  Ted managed to moan about being hungry, despite a table groaning under the weight of food lying in front of him and I shook my head in despair.  These children and food! 

 

Ted and Hugo played 'astronauts' for most of their time together and it was a close call getting Ted to finally relinquish the suit.  Hmmm...luckily he's having a space party soon...and has requested a suit costume...

But as with the night before, there was much protestation at bedtime.  It's always too early - be it at 7.30pm or 9.30pm or some other time.  They are NEVER TIRED and ALWAYS able to stay up to play more.  When we point out the constant rubbing of eyes, the walking into walls, the crabbiness and illogical responses, they are adamant.  NOT TIRED!

And then, with only one song down on their stunning bedtime cd from our neighbour, the sound of steady breathing reaches me through the darkness and I steal out into the loungeroom.  To edit photos of course.