All week long I have been working at packing things that are tucked away in cupboards and wardrobes and under beds. By and large I’ve left things that are a very noticeable part of our home where they are for now. This is so not to upset our dear friend and helper too much:
It’s amazing how much we have tucked away here and there. I’ve chucked some of it out, but we’ve also had a great time looking through old papers. We found a series of lively sketches that Michael wrote when he was the Dafter’s age, of his home life. With an older sister and triplets as the younger sibling, his dinnertimes were (it would seem) a bit of a free-for-all at times.
And some of our notes of the children’s antics and sayings have made us fall over laughing. For example, a scrap noting a conversation I had with the Dafter when she was about 7. We were in the front garden.
Dafter: What do you suppose this pink rock is? It broke in half when I picked it up.
me: I don’t know. Clay, maybe?
Dafter: I doubt it. That doesn’t make a very good story. “There was a girl and she found a rock and it was made of clay, The End.” I don’t think so!
I don’t think Tilly really understands why there is a growing pile of boxes in Our Son’s old room, but as long as she has plenty of cuddles and the occasional hot water bottle on a rainy day, she’s happy if it’s making us laugh.