The under-four contingent of the household have decided in recent times that sleep is for the weak, the damned, the inferior. That is, until 10am when they’re both sodding knackered and knackering sods.
We’re relying on more television than is strictly healthy to get us all through, and Daddy and I are largely communicating in monosyllables. We also engage in a great range of playtime activities before even the milkman is out of bed. The dawn of Saturday saw this enormous bear take a trip to Mouse’s hair salon, followed in quick succession by bear’s other bear and general stuffed toy friends. Of which there are thousands.