The finker

Sylvia – getting larger and more in your face than ever. I think she is finally getting to grips with drinking out of a sippy cup. Crawled one knee length today, getting there, getting there slowly. Can walk at a keen pace when holding your fingers. Horrific poo incident yesterday caused by a nappy so badly put on that it had just fell off, had to clean the front door step, change all her clothes, all my clothes, and wash the buggy lining. Today seemed like one long conveyor belt of poo clearing up. It seemed as if when one child didn’t need a bum wipe the other one did, and always at moments when I was about to eat. However little could spoil the fantastic meal we had at my parents’ house in honour of Saul’s birthday, including a pheasant and a very fine chocolate torte indeed. Happy birthday bro.

I have noticed that my family always feels free to criticise one another’s kitchen equipment – at various times we have, individually and in small groups, had a go at my parents mugs, water glasses and dessert plates, my cutlery, my sharp knives, my sieve, and practically all our pots and pans. We are so lacking in tact towards one another that often we will for instance ask for our tea in a different type of cup when we are at each others’ houses. I haven’t been to visit my brother’s latest home yet but looking forward to refusing to use his knives and forks when the opportunity presents itself.

I recently asked Rose what she had for lunch at nursery, which she usually doesn’t know but says something like sausages and icecream, both together, as if it’s a kind of soup. This time she still didn’t know but instead of making it up she paused in her walk along the wall, put a hand to her chin and tapped her upper lip with a forefinger which she explained as: ‘That’s finking’.

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