Jason’s aunt V has sent us a jiffy bag stuffed with knitted dinosaurs, which leaped out of the envelope to join Rose’s growing dino collection. I think we need a knitted Jurassic Park for them to live on. There is also a stunning cardigan which would look great on me if it was only a bit bigger. Hint hint. Oo she’s banging the t-rex on the floor and chewing its face off, she obviously likes it.
Jason is putting Rose to bed. She normally drops off around 7.30 or so and the house goes into lockdown. We creep up the stairs with fluffy slippers on and talk quietly, even downstairs. The tv gets turned down so I keep having to ask Jason what that person just said. Having to be ridiculously stealthy when we go to bed makes us both slightly hysterical: for some reason being stealthy feels a bit silly and we giggle a lot and do exaggerated ‘shush’ signs. A few weeks ago I dropped a coat hanger in our bedroom. There was a tiny sliver of time after the crash when everything seemed completely silent, followed by total baby disintegration with screams that broke half the windows in the neighbourhood. She hates being woken up. So why did she get us up at 5am today? This doesn’t seem like a very equal arrangement.