A Sunny Sunday Afternoon

Sunday was good - Jeremy took the boys to their first Karate grading. The cynic in me jolly well knew that, in spite of only having been going six weeks, they were going to pass, else how does the organisation keep hold of its paying customers, but the mother in me burst with pride when I heard that they had both achieved their blue belts. (I was helping out at Sunday School. It was 'Back to Church' Sunday, and the place was heaving. Urgh.)

After a hurried lunch Jeremy went off to Wiltshire for his last performance of Cosi, and I took the children for a walk down to the ford - a glorious afternoon, the boys conker hunting happy as Larry (Larries?), Sid chirruping along with me, the very picture of familial bliss, and it took two seconds to fall apart. Beri tripped over a stick and started shrieking, Kit went to see how badly he was hurt and got smacked on the head and started shrieking, and while I was running toward them I didn't even see what it was that started Sid shrieking. Oh cripes. All three of them, yelling their heads off, and us not even close to home. The sort of thing that can really make your shoulders droop. Having established that while there was blood it was not actually pumping out of any gashes, that we could all wiggle our fingers and toes (though of course it hurt A LOT) and that there would be hot chocolate immediately we got home, off we set. (Three children, two hands, you do the math. Golly, this blog is turning into quite the pop quiz.)

Beri's first reaction to adversity is to start yelling for his Daddy. Any adversity, large or small, Beri is very much the equal opportunity over-reacter. (Nothing can shatter the calm of a sunny woodland glade like a sizeable five-year-old bellowing I WANT MY DADDY!) But he has now figured out an alternative. We keep our mobile numbers in largeish type permanently taped to a kitchen cupboard. Because the little s** can read, and far better than he lets on, he can now grab the phone, and call his poor beleaguered father any time he feels like it. Today, after our usual argument about his post-school snack (he favours a packet of crisps, I vote for a slice of bread) he called Jeremy, and tinily, pathetically, said "She won't give me any food!"

And Kit introduced me to QWERTY Warriors 1 and QWERTY Warriors 2. Do NOT go there. Once you start, you cannot stop. (But RAMPAGE is the best.)