Weeknotes 149: I’ve got all my eggs
This week’s Bank Holiday means I didn’t work a Monday in August. I could get used to that if it wasn’t for that whole mortgage business.
We spent the day careening about the nature reserve1. Without insect repellent. I took up my slot as official sacrifice, walking at the back for the freshly disturbed midges to feast on. I make it a 45 bite to 45 kill score draw. In happier invertebrate encounters, we saw this bad boy and his buddies:
Once home we built the Fisher Price Circle of Neglect® and the Wee Free Man bounced his heart out. /#limbs. He looked grumpy to be taken out of it to head out for food. Not so sad that he couldn’t flirt with all the staff while his sister concocted homemade lemonade. At one point he had every waiter and both owners cooing at him. Shameless.
I snuck off to work after eight on Tuesday with everyone still zonked. A good full weekend.
Wee Free Man
The Wee Free Man is 5 months old. Like a tiresome techbro web3 Ponzi schemer he’s off to the moon a.k.a. officially off the growth charts. He’s in the 9-12 clothes because of it. The midwife reassures us it’s fine, all the while planning to do more reading, “just in case.”
To channel Foz from GoJetters, teething plus cold plus cot equals no sleep. Ergo, tired and ratty. It’s been coupled with the start of his witching hour which has made for some rough bedtimes. Full screaming banana baby and protest plantain.
This section starts with an advert for the M&S Outlet sale. School shoes for under a fiver.
We’ve been titrating the Yoto morning light forward in prep for school. Not that we’ve seen much earlier rising, but it’s prompted more use and she’s started listening to the Roald Dahl stories. He’s cruel and has dated views of other countries, but they’re still extremely funny. Dirty Beasts is transgressive compared to most of her fare and she’s got a corking shocked expression every time the pig eats the farmer.
She’s also rediscovered the facepaints. Granddad was a butterfly. I’ve been a crocky-wock. Piglet herself, a tiger. The Chef another butterfly.
- This bridge is a vibe.
- The best Google Photos collages are the quotidian.
- Rosie Hodgson does lovely harmonies.
- The temporary fix to the leaky toilet is to quarter turn the inlet valve so it fills slowly and doesn’t leak out the back of the cistern. I’ll ask Granddad about a more sustainable fix.
- I’ve no photos of the Super Blue Moon because it was cloudy when I looked. Try again in 2037.
We split-parented our Saturday. The Chef had a long overdue lie-in while we pounded the streets. Family lunch where, inspired by this toot, we showed Piglet the Old Spells. Bellies full, they headed to a Disney birthday party (as a fairy2 and not Elsa for Reasons), leaving me to drill a hole in the oven to fix the grill (proper dad stuff) and had my bike tire off four times. New puncture patches are in the post.
Sunday we joined the neighbours (and everyone else in Newcastle) for a trip to the beach for the last sunny day before school. Having extra kids there makes the beach that much more relaxing. The kids could hold hands and perform magic tricks of questionable quality for each other. Adults conversed without interjecting, “give me a minute,” into each anecdote. We could even go to the toilet alone. The kids leapt over seaweed covered rocks in search of more crabs and fish while the dads visibly aged from stress. The afternoon stretched out too long for us to make it back in time for the planned BBQ, so we had ice creams and played hide and seek instead. Geographic.