Sleepovers. Ah, the word that sends a chill right to the depth of the soul of any sanity-preserving supermum. Tuesday night was riotous. No.1 son wound up no.2 son and friend. There were pillow fights, quilt fights, sleeping bag hi-jacks and high jinks too numerous to mention.
Wednesday morning, I woke up and resolved BEFORE my feet hit the ground that I simply had to take them all out somewhere, or go mad. Accordingly, we went to The Big Adventure, a huge soft-play place where kids can run, jump, slide, squeal and scream to their hearts' content without endangering their parents' furniture. It wasn't a cheap morning, but it was more peaceful for me!
Noble Spouse returned, triumphant, on Thursday afternoon, having had a wonderful wife-free, child-free week, and enjoyed the life of a carefree bon-viveur. Well, all good things come to an end, don't they? He returned to prawn curry de la maison, then disappeared off to a meeting in connection with one of his interests.
Obviously, he was FAR too busy on holiday to remember a wedding anniversary on Friday, though I must say that the floral peace-offering did mollify me somewhat.
The last two days have been low-key. Somehow our house is suddenly full of toy guns, which fire caps, plastic pellets and now yucky bits of potato too. This is despite my valiant efforts to keep the house free of any kind of toy gun other than the watery variety! I think I have to give up on this one. Mild comments like "why would you want to pretend to kill someone else?" have no effect at all! What it is to be the only female in a very male household.