Don't jump!

The first week, or perhaps in the name of accuracy I should say the partial week, back at school has seen  Things One and Two firmly ensconced back into the daily woe that is school life. Early mornings and early nights. Thing One as ever was remarkably unperturbed, as always with regards to embarking upon a new school year, unfortunately Thing Two, the one that actually likes school had a wibble on the first morning, complete with quiet devastating tears. In public she's a stoic little mite so its always especially moving to see her let her guard down outside. I suspect it was the somewhat overwhelming nature of being utterly surrounded by people large and small, she's not especially enamoured with busy places. So I walked her to her line and her dear teacher wordlessly clasped her hand and kept her side. The tears had stopped yet Thing Two was still heartbreakingly consumed by melancholy and I had to in against all mothering instinct and leave her with someone else whilst knowing she was upset despite the knowledge that she would indeed be fine once she was in situ inside.

The hospital was awfully murky about Thing One and his ankle with regards to school versus rest and The Husband in typical husband style didn't actually seek the important clarification as to wether the resting for several weeks would pertain to no school or not. Thing One is hamming up his limp quite spectacularly and needless to say anything he is asked to do at home would surely exacerbate it whereas running, jumping, swinging and kicking balls is seemingly okay.

The Toddler appears to be enjoying having the house back to himself during the day and I have nearly forgiven him for shitting on my bed at the weekend, the fluffy toy sheep however that had the unfortunate experience of being in the wrong place at the wrong time may be less forgiving despite a rather successful jaunt in the washing machine. Am trying dreadfully hard to behave and not call him scatty, the sheep that is.

I am irrevocably saddened by fact I dislike tea yet as always have a cupboard full of It yet am rather partial to gin and have none. Woe is most definately me. Oh well, at least there's Zoloft.

Unfortunately I may have to share the happy pills with a kitten in a neighbouring flat that was attempting to jump from a second story window today whilst I flounced in sleep deprived induced delirium around my garden imploring it to not jump, that life is allegedly worthwhile and to think of all the fish he's yet to eat!  Either I'm an exceedingly good Samaritan or else it thought it best to get away from the disturbing Purple haired woman, either way it buggered off back inside.

Tomorrow Thing Two turns six, Yes six!

The Husband and I are having a bake off, each making her a cake to which she will be the judge. I am a bit nervous that The Husband may burn the house down so am going to go check/laugh at his nocturnal baking attempt...

The spoil sport is refusing to grant me access into the kitchen. If his cake is better then mine I shall never let him have my virginity.