Because if it isn’t recorded, it will be forgotten…
Yesterday we finally had Christmas mark whatever. My parents came down and delivered it in a whole heap of presents to several slightly overwhelmed children.
Small was thrilled – he got 3 new DS games, ones he’d really really wanted. He’s several hours in Pokemon: Omega Sapphire now.
Big is very very happy with her new bag. And enough money to replace the phone which unaccountably died 2 days ago. Hm.
Smallest has been dressed as a princess all day in a singing dress. (Who knew that there was such a thing?) And Tigerboy got a playmobil caravan, and a playmobil car, and noisy toys and sticky toys and chocolate!
Hard to encompass so much happiness when you’re so small. 😉
We had a lovely visit with my parents, and sat up far too late setting the world to rights over indian food and good coffee.
And I won’t forget that Tigerboy *hasn’t* completely weaned, he can now count objects (stick children, 1 2 3) and can sequence up to 6. Turns out that reading the same book over and over and over again can be good.
I’ve read the Mazerunner. Now there’s a book that quite stunningly fails the Bechdel test, by virtue of having next to no female characters in it.
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