I won't be posting over the weekend and this is because I have gone completely cuckoo.
It's not that the men in white coats will be coming for me (just yet) or that I will be covered in mud watching birds. No, it's worse than that I'm afraid... I am going camping. With the Spud. Without the Frog. For three days.
Right now the hallway is stacked to the ceiling with all The Stuff... wipes and nappies and bottles and food and clothes and more clothes and a first aid kit and calpol and butt cream and sleeping sack and spare socks and a cute little rain coat and a baby cot and towels and toys... oh, and a tent. You might note the absence of MY clothes in this list and this is because even though it is a quarter past midnight and I have been preparing The Stuff all day, I have not yet packed for myself.
I will bring a camera and perhaps, when I come around from the tranquiliser dart I'm sure will be needed to get me home in one piece, I will post about it all. If you don't see me here for a few weeks, you'll know why.
In the meantime the Spud only had hysterics three times today. Once because I took the cob of corn he was gnawing out of his hand FOR ONE SECOND to turn it around so he could start on a new bit, once because he crawled into the living-room and realised I had turned on my laptop without him and once because the cat walked away from him.
Boy am I looking forward to camping with him for three days.