Twenty Seven

There aren't enough hours in the day. I am now twenty seven. My new job makes my brain happy. Tired, but happy. Game of Thrones is begging me to read it. My crochet pattern is refusing to make sense and be 'at one' with the photograph; I am therefore improvising. This could get messy.

Birthdays meant cake with strawberries and cream and a super duper bike seat so that I can trundle along with Elis right behind me. This has not been tested yet. It sounds like it will rely on a good understanding of my own personal centre of gravity. I promise I will work on this before mounting Elis onto the bike.

Grandpa is supplying Duplo by the crate load. I don't think I have quite accepted that this is not solely for my enjoyment yet. This applies to a number of things - Soccer Tots for example; another event whereby I enjoy myself and Elis looks at me blankly. An indoor football court [or is it still a pitch when indoors and lacking grass?] filled with toddlers - why would I have predicted it to be anything other than bedlam? 

My pocket sized toddler ignored the other children and the footballs, preferring instead to stack cones and dive headfirst into the container of rings and bean bags. You want my child to take this ball and place it onto a coloured dot on the floor?! That would be the toddler that I am grabbing desperately by the trouser leg to stop him running away to swing off the netting. He has a thing about netting and chain link fences.

Hurry up weekend - I want to go exploring and let Elis wear his wellington boots somewhere uncarpeted and muddy!

Time for bed. 

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