We've bailed out of a camping trip in Dorset because the weather's too terrible and I wasn't born to camp.
We're going to return tomorrow, but I needed a night of hot bath, clean children and just not being damp for a little while.
GCSE results day tomorrow, too, so I have the perfect excuse: I need to be home. So, whilst here, I thought we'd better start on the holiday homework. I was a good mother; Gilby is researching the Victorians, and we took a visit to the Lyons bookstore and the local library. We worked on how to use an index and created a template for his project together. He has a total of six books, including the Horrible Histories. Sorted. Plenty to keep him busy. Gertie was also busy doing her homework and Eddie was engrossed in Lego. Perfect. Some time for me. I set them off. A few minutes later, prompted by Gertie's giggling, I came back to find this:
I think the Victorians probably made me feel like this too until my thirties, so I can't blame the little chap. And he's been sleeping in a tent for the last few nights, so probably a little short of kip...but I strongly suspect he won't win any prizes for this particular assignment.
Currently reading: Behind the Beautiful Forevers by Katherine Boo