This morning Gilby jumped on us in bed. Of course, it was Saturday morning, so we get woken up extra early, because the laws of having children say that on days when you are able to have a lie in you actually get woken up at least an hour before you usually do. Everyone knows that. But this morning, he was excited to tell us about his dream. He dreamt that he was a grown up. (How exciting is that when you are three?) And he was a spaceman. Every boy's dream, no? And not only that, but when he went up into space he baked cakes.
So I am thinking that we will have the first lunar celebrity chef when he grows up; hooray! Move over Jamie Oliver, there is a new niche in the market.
The other good news is that our new au pair has arrived from Austria. Let's call her Lady Visa. Very efficient with the children, perfect in fact. And they love her. But - vehicles seem not to be her friend. She has been here for a week and a half, and so far she has managed to obtain a parking ticket in Guildford, and had to call out whatever the Austrian equivalent of the AA is to tow her out, since she got Rooney stuck in the mud at some lovely rural spot that she stopped to admire the view at. (Rooney because the car is maroon, not after the England striker; I'm bored of having to explain that.) And she missed the last train home from London, resulting in a midnight dash for my husband to collect her from the next station. Still. She seems to settling in well, just as long as transport isn't involved.