School hellidays, more like. The eight-year-old had a sleepover on Friday at a friend’s – her parents call their place a farm. It isn’t. It is a lifestyle block. Still, it has sheep and chickens and stuff, so it’s all good – and one of the other mothers took pity on me the next day and had the six-year-old over to play. Which left me home alone with a very tired and cranky eight-year-old. All afternoon. It was a long afternoon.
On Sunday it was our turn to host, so I was home alone with six small children. Six. That is a lot of small children, if you ask me.
Next Friday my wife returns after three weeks away. I shall be quite pleased to see her.
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