It was national poetry day yesterday so I wrote this at 10pm. Sitting waiting for the washer to finish it's final spinSo I can move things to the drierOr the kids won't have clean jumpers tomorrowAnd I can go to bed. That's a poem right? Close enough.
Large boy is pretty good at recognising and expressing emotions. Every now and then, always at bed time, he tells us he's sad but doesn't know why. The soft mummy in me assumes he's been bottling it up all day and is finally letting it out. The suspicious mummy part wonders if he's procrastinating. We … Continue reading An emotional 7 year old