Friday 10 January 2014

St Anthony

The Lozenge has had his last day at school and I'm a bit concerned about surviving the next three weeks, because he can't stop packing.


And every day the stash gets bigger…


On Tuesday evening we were making cheese biscuits for his last day of school's 'sharing' party. But we couldn't find the butter. I looked in the fridge, wondering to myself how we could have gone through 5 pats since the weekend. Then I started to think uncharitable thoughts about St Grace's storage habits.

A few minutes later, the Lozenge came skipping through in nothing but his stripy y-fronts. 'Mummy, here'th the butter,' he chirped, handing me the 5 pats of slightly squishy butter. 'I put them in my wolling thootcathe for when we go to the new houthe.' Next to the butter in the rolling suitcase were a few pairs of my socks, the whisk and the remote control for the television I'd been combing the house for the night before.

On Thursday St Grace took the dwarves into her church near the centre of town to light some candles.

And I think it's the moment to build a shrine to St Anthony in the flat, before I lose my mind, as well.

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