Our favourite place to sit on Sunday mornings, reading, drinking tea. (She's reading "Welcome to Welsh". Chosen unaided. Good luck with that, Tilly.)
My children see the vacuum so infrequently that it's a novelty. Oh look, it blows air! How FUN!
Like I said. Novelty.
My two favourite fellas, hanging out at my sister's house.
Gorgeous sister, marvellous mother.
Birthday boy, nephew Dougie, how did he get to be seven years old?
Trampoline with no sides? SO much room for serious injury. Lemme at it.
Birthday boy again. Because he's just so handsome. And grown up. (SEVEN? Are you sure we didn't skip a year?)
Children's table. Finally. A children's table. Holding hands for grace. No high chairs. No help required. Except for me with my possessed camera which switched settings entirely by itself. No black and white arty-ness intended.
Anyway, you get the picture.
Is it just me that feels like I should kinda still be sitting at the kids table and the grown ups table is for someone else?
How old are you in your head? Honestly, I'm probably fourteen.
xxx
