I worked all yesterday evening on something that was bugging me, and I’ve worked all day today (and into the evening) on freelance work. I’m going to be working on paid overtime for my regular job all day tomorrow.
I’m knackered. Worn out. Shattered. Tired. I keep going though.
Our house has been strangely quiet today; little miss 5, who could quite plausibly become a town cryer when she grows up, is staying at her grandparents for the night – a sleepover of sorts. She has been looking forward to it for weeks, and repeatedly asked us if “this is the weekend I stay at Nanny’s”.
We were of course waiting for the phonecall to go and fetch her, but it never came. Now we’re waiting for her younger sister to forget everything by the morning, and start screaming the house down when she discovers her sister is missing (their beds are opposite each other).
Conversation of the day (which occurred after little miss 4 started screaming)…
Mum : What’s wrong?
Little Miss 4 : Blub blub hurt me gurgle
Mum : (aimed at Miss 9) Did you hurt her?
Miss 9 : No!
Mum : why is she crying then?
Miss 9 : I don’t know
Mum : (aimed at Little Miss 4) Did she bash you?
Little Miss 4 : blub blub Yeah…
Mum : Did you bash her!
Miss 9 : I might have bumped her a bit
Mum : I asked if you bashed her, and you said NO! Why did you lie!?
Miss 9 : I didn’t bash her – bash is a different word
(we both looked at each other, and started laying the law down while Miss 9 looked very guilty indeed)
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