The last day of the Easter holidays. Sigh.
About fifteen minutes ago, Gertie was practising her flute, Gilby had finished some reading (he's been inspired by a Tom Palmer football book) and was working his way through some maths problems (for fun) while Eddie was quietly doing some finger-painting.
"I've nailed this parenting lark," I thought to myself.
You know the rest: Somehow this all morphed into a game of murdering Ninja death warriors and I now have two broken bits of furniture and one child in tears because they smashed their head into wardrobe doors.
"Best to write a blogpost," I thought to myself.
Currently reading: Virginia Woolf A Writer's Life by Lyndall Gordon