Perhaps somewhat unbelievably, we’ve had two days now of relative peace! No major paddies, dramas, beatings, lamentings, wailings or general hissy fits for 48 hours! I scarcely dare say it, but I think it might be a Banks family record.

Yesterday was a lovely, idyllic day, that wouldn’t have looked out of place on a 50s American comedy. Think ‘Happy Days’ crossed with ‘Bewitched’; I’m fairly sure OH even trilled ‘honey? I’m home!’ as he came in from work, and hung his bowler hat and briefcase on the coat peg. Ha ha. DB1 was gorgeously smiley and cuddly, and DB2 had reverted to his usual benign state of stoic acceptance of the chaotic world surrounding him. Bliss.

We did have one minor incident, which might have scarred DB2 for life, involving him somehow ending up with my phone on his face mid-nap (again, no need for social services, he managed to flip it up on to his nose in his sleep. No idea how. I wasn’t trying to balance it on there for my own amusement. Though perhaps I should confess that once, when DB1 was asleep, I attempted to see how many of his cuddly toys I could balance on him. Come to think of it, I once tried to see whether I could make a sandcastle on my mothers backside when she was lying prostate and snoring on a beach in Portugal. Maybe I have a strange thing about balancing things on people when they are asleep. Hmm. Further evidence of my…Er… Idiosyncrasies. Hmmm.)

But, sleeping mobile phone incident aside, all good. Likewise, today was a highly pleasant experience. We all went trampling through the woods at Arne today, and saw a herd of deer, which, as you can imagine was fairly amazing. The largest stag was looking at DB1 and I in a slightly eggy way whilst DB1 had his snack on a nearby log (might have been his repeated hollering cry of ‘look mummy! A deer!’, as though I’d not yet noticed them, that did it.) but other than that, they seemed fairly content to graze whilst we observed them. OH by this point had gleefully bounded off, binoculars in hand, to locate the nearest hide, with poor old DB2 strapped in the baby carrier in front of him. No escape for DB2, but I suppose the sooner he learns the ways of the birding world, the better. Just accept it boys. The chances of you being twitchers when you are older is increased exponentially by you having an ornithologist as a father. Speaking of which, I really should stop singing that song in front of them, the one from ‘Not the 9 o clock news’. I’d be mortified if DB1 started parroting me and chanting ‘we like birds, we’re ornithologists. Horny-porno-thologists’. Knowing him, he’d pronounce it perfectly too. Just like he managed to pronounce ‘pillock’ and ‘for f*ck’s sake’ perfectly too. Blush!

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