It is one of those deliciously crisp Wintery days. The sparkly kind that makes your windows look utterly filthy.
In normal circumstances I would take the opportunity to stand on the
But not today. Because in a moment of Motherly wickedness, instead of attending the weekly nightmare that is mums and tots group, I have bundled Finley up in every item of clothing that he owns, equipped him with a bike, a ball and an action man and sent him to entertain himself in my neighbour, Johns garden. If he get’s bored I am not beyond calling John and insisting he plays football with the little monster. Never mind the fact that the poor man was probably on nights last night and may be snoring as we speak. I matter more! (Just for an hour or two? Pretty please?). Deep conditioner is cooking in my hair, there is a croissant baking in the oven, and dear little Doris Day is waiting to entertain me in my super tidy candlelit living room (so dark in there it may as well be midnight!), while I read "For One More Day" and dwell in the luxury of sentimental nostalgia…
Call me a "mal maman" if you will. In fact call social services if you must, but I am about to pour the