It’s hard. I’m sat here, trying to concentrate while writing this blog post. W is watching “Waking the Dead” on the television, and my good headphones are at work - meaning my ability to block out external stimulus is being tested to the extreme.
I don’t want to move to another room, because we spend far too long apart each day as it is.
I’m eating Jelly Babies. W informs me that her Mum bought a 1 kilogram bag of them because they were on offer. I’m trying to imagine what a kilogram of Jelly Babies looks like. I’m also now wondering what the Americans reading this are thinking - I’m betting no candy exists in the US remotely like them - hence the image at the start of this post.
In other news, I am supposed to be running a 5 mile “fun run” the weekend after next. God only knows how I’m going to do it. I’ve already promised to go to the park with the children tomorrow night. My “training” may well have to happen after 8pm - just to completely finish me off. I almost fell asleep at my desk this afternoon after an “eventful” night in our house.
At bedtime this evening, our four year old told me that she didn’t like me, and that she wanted Mummy to read the story. In between repeatedly informing me of her dislike, she asked if she could have porridge for breakfast.
I know my place.