Our year of Friday mornings is over, and I'm trying to be a grown-up about it, but you're holding up better than I am. You love our routine almost as much as I do; we drop your big sister to school, then we wander slowly back, you holding onto the buggy, skipping along beside me. ...
You never know what day it is - the first sound I hear every morning is the light patter of your small bare feet, and the first words I hear are "Is it morning? What day is it today mummy?" And if I say that it's Saturday, you sometimes ask "Am I going to pre-school today mummy?" And maybe ...
On Saturday morning, as happens in houses all over the country on weekend mornings, my three kids bundled into our bed, at various times ranging from 5am to the somewhat more civilised 8 o'clock. The baby was snuggled into me, and Clara, my five year old was cuddled up with her dad. Emmie, my middle child, ...