When my youngest child is not being deeply naughty she is tremendously good fun. Yesterday I was quite out of temper with her due to the flooding of my hallway with the entire contents of a LARGE bucket of dirty mop water, a trip to Tesco which would have been easier to have done with a load of baboons, and the need to clean the downstairs cloakroom (the whole thing- not just the toilet- the walls, the floor, the door too) not once, not twice, but THREE TIMES due to her pig-headedness in refusing to ask for assistance when she needs a poo.
Hmm.
Anyway, I was sitting here feeling Extremely Irritated, looking at my photos from the last week and suddenly I realised I was not cross anymore. Because you know what? Being at home with my children is good fun most of the time, and who wouldn't rather be doing this:
or admiring this:
than working?
x
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