Red red whine

I got about four hours sleep last night before La Serpiente woke me up, and then I couldn’t sleep for another hour or so, and then I woke on the floor of the living room, drooling into a picture of Eeyore on the kids’ playmat, while La Serpiente lay on top of me, demanding I entertain her. And we had no breakfast in the house.

Disaster was partially averted by going out to Ronin, but Destroyer/Egregious Malfunction is in a funny mood right now, and will descend into a screaming mess at the drop of a hat, which doesn’t make for fun times in restaurants. We got as much scrambled egg into her as we could, the fled home. At least both children went down for their naps fast.

In the afternoon it was La Serpiente’s music class, and yet again I thought I was going to die, or throw up, or throw up and then die, about half way through. Is it the red wine? The constant singing about giraffes? The carpet? Afterwards, I took La Serpiente for a strawberry éclair, and then some blue ice cream, and then some profound madness when she got home, buzzed out of her mind on sugar. I assumed that would lead to a swift bedtime tonight, but she was up for at least an hour of flopping around and demanding cuddles. It’s a good life if you don’t weaken.

We bought some more second hand furniture this weekend, which meant I spent half an hour rearranging my running kit into a chest of drawers. I now have a sock drawer, something of which I’m unreasonably proud. I also have a sore back from carrying bedside tables apparently hewn from solid oak disguised as MDF, but them’s the breaks. We were contemplating bunk beds for the kids, but it turns out our bedrooms are all a foot too small for such frivolity.

For now. I can always fix that with a sledgehammer, right?

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