From 4pm until 7pm, this house works like clockwork. We have a routine you see. It is mine and the boys week day dance.
I know that tea will be on the table by 5.00. Olly's bath will be drawn at 5.30. He will have quiet time on the sofa with me and Iggle Piggle until 7.00. Sam will be home from college between 5.00 and 5.30. Alfie will be firmly reminded of homework at 6.00. And again at 6.30. Olly and I will go up to Bedfordshire at 7.00. The light will be out by 7.30, after kisses and cuddles and two (or three) stories.
Olly's new wellies drying on the radiator. He jumped in a puddle right up to his middle.
"Booooooooooys! Dinner!" she yelled up the stairs. (Fishwife).
Can you guess what I'll be making after
'Bake off for Sports Relief'?
The Silver Fox is back!
As close as I want to get to Sam's room....
Preparing for bath time
I will most likely shout at some point. One of them will invariably leave most of their evening meal, and then complain of hunger later. Bickering at mealtime is mandatory. There will a flurry of activity concerning the dishwasher, toy tidying and endless cups of tea. Maybe a glass of wine.
Can't wait for bed tonight.
Terrible night's sleep last night.
Loving my bright measuring spoons.
Two bunches to brighten the dullest day
Skarloey lying on the windowsill where it's warm
A few remaining toys
Born in a barn. Honestly. Head down and chow.
Countdown to me time has begun. I relish it every evening. They have all of me through the day. But the hours of eight until ten are mine and mine alone. Unless they need help with their homework. Or a chat. Or a mopped brow.
I'm always on call.