Dot writes: by gum it takes a long time to put in an internet grocery order. Apparently the website is supposed to remember and tell you what you ordered last time as a shortcut, but this doesn’t seem to work for me yet, so I’ve just spent much of the last hour when I could have been writing this post wading through six pages of pictures of yoghurt. The long, meditative post on the many virtues and endearing peculiarities of a small, but not-so-small-as-he-was boy will have to wait, as I need to go to bed (but happily, for the first time in his life, his birthday is not marked by a raucous party in the house next door).
Today Frank is three years old. We have not made much fuss about it as all the presents and the party happened on Saturday. (Sorry the second picture below is blurry.)
There was a contingent of older children – Hugh, Jake, Karel and Hugh’s classmate Ella – and they went upstairs to play while the adults chatted and watched the littler ones. Frank was bitten on the back by the curly haired boy in the picture above, but it served him right as I believe he first whacked said boy with a plastic spade. Apart from that Frank had an excellent time exploring his impressive haul of presents. I asked Hugh afterwards what the older ones had done. “We played babies,” he replied. “Ella was the mummy and I was the fire-breathing dragon.”