it is day one of spring break, and i am already pleading with the teachers downstairs to go back to work.

the kids are rotten.

today, the first day of spring break, the rain started to fall. the amount? in kidspeak: not sprinkling peas onto your plate of spaghetti drizzle, but maple syrup on pancakes rain. serious stuff. pouring down. complete with thunder and lightning.

and then they’re all wimpy, wah wah, we don’t want to play outside.

i thought you liked puddles? honestly, they change their mind all the time.

so inside they are. with their hot chocolate.

and then sebastian says grinning, "mummy, i am 80 years old."

and sela, who woke up acting like something sharp was sticking out of her bottom announces, "sebastian, you are not 80 years old." so they’re off on a verbally scintillating discussion that involves rising voices and AM SO! NO! a lot. they sound a lot like contestants defending each other infront of donald trump, except they are bringing me into it. and frankly, i don’t care. actually, i do. if he’s 80 years old, what on earth is he doing still living with me and is he paying rent?

carys meanwhile, had a triumphant day…i let her wear her knickers during nap time. not just any knickers, but dora ones. dora needs to stay dry, and so does boots, i told her. so no wees.

"what about swiper?" she asked eagerly. swiper is not featured on the knickers she was sporting, but what the heck. "of course, swiper needs to stay dry."

then carys got very worried, but in the video where they go around the world apparently all three of them are in the water, bla bla bla…just go to BED!

she woke up dry, but lita took her to the toilet, not me. and that was enough to make carys cry.

her post nap experience sounds like an existentialist first year college student’s poetry assignment.

hooray – i am dry

yet, i will cry.

jasper and sebastian (he manages to be everywhere these days) are discussing squatting rights over the cardboard box the groceries were delivered in. pull back and forth, squealing reaching fever pitch, and mummy, who hasn’t gone for a walk today and has a headache possibly caused by barometric pressure, says in a quick, tight voice,

"okaythat’sit-givemethebox – youcan’tsharesoiamtakingitaway. i warnedyou."

actually, i didn’t warn them. but in the past week i must have said something about sharing or squealing. i can justify this.

thank goodness my mother arrives thursday. she will look after them. the grandmother thing. she must.

oh here comes carys. should i close now or do you want to hear what the massive pounding issue is?

************************************* scintillating update ***********************************************

i never found out. i just put them into bed, gave drinks of water, cuddles, encouraged the 66.66 per cent that suck thumbs to pop their thumbs into their mouths, sang two songs, and turned off the lights.

they’re asleep already.

but they’ll wake up, for day 2.