Snuggle up and keep warm

It does beg the question: how many winds of tissue can possibly come out of two little boy's noses? Ah, there's certainly merit in a tracheostomy suction machine when you can just slurp it out and perhaps I should dig one back out from storage.

"Messy' calls Callum. Now if you've stopped back for some unknown reason to yesterday's Fishy Tail, you'll see the consequences of messy in our home. Ah Callum you really have excelled yourself this time. What was yesterday my lovely huge white muslin is now multiple brown handed with a dash of white, along with the rug and Reuben's bed. And there's leftover for your hands too, in perfectly formed round balls. Thanks. I just didn't have enough work to do today. Potty training is not going well.

Mum just called. She's on her way up to Glasgow from London to visit her sister, nieces and the extended family.

A Fishy Tail
Callum started calling me from the playroom where he'd lined up trains Thomas, James and Percy to look at Fishy. "Messy" he was calling. I sensed from the next room that something was up, something messy. Little could I have envisaged that it wasn't just something messy, but something fishy. The contents of Fishy's tank were spewed upon the playroom floor (I knew I shouldn't have brought it down a shelf but wanted the boys to have a better look and contact), and fish was lying seemingly stone cold dead for how long, I had no idea. I waited a moment to think of what to do whilst sighing "Oh Callum" and feeling more sad than angry. Then, in a moment, I sprang into action, found two fishy-like books which I use to decorate the side of Fishy's tank by Donaldson/Scheffler (author/illustrator of The Gruffalo) and literally scooped Fishy up with them, still lifeless. Putting the partly broken tank and pump back together, I thought of the inevitable moment when Fishy would swim no more, when, lo and behold, off swam beautiful Betta Fishy like he'd never done before. A fish outa water? You bet.