What better thing to talk about than my children. The Boy has very much identified with the new place we're hoping we can buy with help from my parents (we'll be paying them back).
Would you like to know more?
When shown a set of images of the new place on the leaflet the estate agents sent (for some reason) the conversation went like this:
Boy: "What that?"
"Pictures of the new house. Do you recognise it?"
Boy, with gasp of amazement: "That where mine been!" Points to the picture of the garden, "That where mine line up toys in garden." Girlish squeal of joy as he points at a picture of a bedroom: "That where mine run round in mine house!"
"Yes, you've been there."
Boy: "Mine member. Member playing in the garden with toys at mine house. Not in mine silly house. This silly house. Want mine special house!"
Then there's the Girlie. It was a warmish night, she'd done a show the day before and we think she's still feeling the after-effects. Also, she had some ice-cream yesterday and something in ice-cream makes her go loopy. Anyway, she was very tired today. Very tired. When asked by Willow to get ready for bed the following conversation ensued:
Willow: "Now, can you get undressed ready for bed, put on your pyjamas, go to the toilet and do your teeth?"
Girlie: "Yes Mummy."
She then proceeds to strip as she thuds down the landing, clutches her clothes in her hand, wanders into the bathroom and throws them down the toilet. Yes, you read that correctly, she throws them down the toilet.
Willow tries hard not to cry laughing.
Girlie adopts a look of pure horror as realisation of what she's just done dawns. "Mummy!"
Willow helps sort it out, "Don't worry, we can put these in the wash."
See, parenting. Fun.