Teething, miserable baby. B working, although only a short day. All of us exhausted because of the broken night last night. Phone call from Ma this morning saying that Pa seemed to have taken a turn for the worse last night and she was thinking of asking us to come down.
On the plus side, I have learnt that if I burst in to tears as Leo is crying, he stops and tries to put his hand in my mouth. This is good. Less good is the fact that all he seems to want to do at the moment is wipe his snotty nose in my cleavage. B says who can blame him, but I am not impressed.
Leo and I had an apple-pie bearing visitor this afternoon, which stopped me putting him in his cot and driving off in to the sunset.
We have had an enquiry from someone wanting to rent our spare room - mixed feelings about it - we'd have to share a bathroom until The Magic Builder comes back and finishes all the stuff we've got on the go. But the cash would be handy.
I'm off to put twenty eggs in my new incubator, put the chickens to bed, phone Ma and then collapse in to bed myself. I may end up driving to Somerset tomorrow, whilst B goes to work in Manchester and joins us later in the week.
Oh. And the washing machine is leaking from underneath as it spins.
That was the final straw, really.