I am rolling hills.

On the way home from G’ma’s tonight I came to finding Zeph looking at me expectantly. “I could keep them in my bedroom..” I am instantly on alert suspecting I’m about to sleepwalk into a foolish agreement. “Keep who in your bedroom?” “Ziggy and Mabel….my trained acrobatic chameleons” It seems the conversation took a sharp turn from Bey-blades while I  zoned out. I think about tattoos, motorbikes, piercings, the near future seems strewn with possibilities. I must pay attention – even when the flow reaches that numbing constant pitch… 

Today we did gardening, tea drinking, bubble blowing and the children ate their body weight in ham and cakes. Good day all round. I re-tuned the TV and am regarded as a God, although a bit abashed I bask slightly. Praise is  thin on the ground at home. That’s toddlers for you.

 I admit the ” Daddles – I miss yooooooo” at every instance of Steve’s leaving is VERY cute. I, however, am the one with  a pelvic floor that no longer functions at top spec. It’s because I never bloody leave. I’m scenery.

Many beautiful things; there are two blue butterflies dancing when we drink our tea in the garden. They are even bluer than the cloud free sky.

Ida and Zeph play hide and seek in the afternoon. It takes Ida a while to get the hang of it but G’mas beautiful garden is full of wonderful hiding places. The air rings with hysterical giggling and squeals of excitement.

Steve makes cheese on toast when we turn up at home sun burnt and tired (one of us is a bit miffed about not being listened to…) After a bit of pleading he serves it on my cake stand. It’s the small things that build love that can’t be washed away.

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