Just saying, the best thing from a home brand since ALDI nappies. Curled up on the couch after a ridiculously insane day involving multiple specialist appointments and me trying my hand at serious 1-on-2 time with the poppets, nothing could beat a couple of For the Love of Pizzas, some Sem Sav Bee from the Wine Society, then a shared bucket of this insanely decent, censorably-rich frozen decadence.
I helped out with a couple of bottle feeds; Mitt-Mitts looked at me like a trucker forced to drink beer through a straw from a pink mug.
We explored Fitzroy Gardens and found a statue in a hidden glade. 'Daddy, the little boy's in nudie time daddy', Bear observed. It's a European thing I replied, and I think I can say that answer was correct on so many levels.
We got flushed out of Fitzroy Gardens by a sudden downpour. 'Junkie dad' would have been the reaction of any casual observers as I ran, literally, pushing our old Emmalunga with Bear sitting in the rain under a red hoodie, Mitts bouncing and looking up in wide-eyed disbelief, mud splattering everywhere, panting, floundering...
A man said something like good rain, hope it rains all night as we came in under the cover and I had a sudden urge to rub a wet nappy in his face. Do men always say such stupid things around mums, is this why my gender is constantly lampooned for insensitivity and incompetence when it comes to parenting?
We sat, wet, covered in sand from an abortive attack on a wet sandpit, eating the jelly beans and generally upsetting the sophisticated decor of the specialist's waiting room.
Mitts is learning to cuddle properly, holding tight around the shoulder and squeezing as he takes life in.
They were both so patient and empathetic it was hard to escape the conclusion that they know everything is not yet ok.
Beloved slipped into sleep, legs across mine, moments after the last mouthful of ice cream.
mildredsfierce: Gene Tierney on the set of Leave Her to Heaven,... - mildredsfierce: Gene Tierney on the set of *Leave Her to Heaven*, 1945.
1 hour ago