garden time.

This weekend has been lovely. I think.


We had Mr O’s parents with us for the day on Saturday…they arrived after the standard weekend dancing and swimming lessons, so we had lunch and then wandered into town, destined to buy sandals for Ruby and print off a gazillion posters and flyers for my book stall at the Lichfield Bower on Monday. A bbq involving lots of forced “ooohs” as Mr O tried his best to grill chicken whilst fending off the curly haired one before she burned herself followed, and then there was a great game of Scatch and of course the obligatory tantrum once told that no, she couldnt have wine with dinner!

Today was a nice, quiet day in comparison. I say quiet…but it’s never quiet with boo boo and bobbins around!

Thinking back to the days of old when the hubs and I used to get up late, eat long lovely lunches and drink wine in the garden all day, I laugh when I even think that the weekend has been “quiet” these days!

Ruby has flipped from sweetheart to devil so many times this weekend. And so my thoughts have mainly consisted  of…What did we do now?! Can I run away and hide?! Please!? The stroppy little madam isn’t even 4 yet. She is well and truly a threenager.

Still, even though our garden is quite possibly one of the least attractive places on the planet (and you have to sit near the bins to eat your bbq) I have actually really enjoyed spending time out there this weekend.

Henry ate grass. Ruby climbed the tree. Mr O finally cut the grass.

Yep. This weekend has been lovely.




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