Burglary and banana hammocks

I was going to post last night, but after a day which involved lunch with my mother (the emotional equivalent of being hit repeatedly in the face with a sock full of wet sand), cuddling a new baby and sitting through the ninety-minute showing-off-fest that is Madagascar at the cinema (with Small Person on my lap throughout, mainlining m&m's and occasionally kicking my shins) I just didn't have the mental energy. It was a quiet yet eventful weekend, which saw the Other Half borrowing a ladder from Drop Dead Fred as we..well, ok, me had locked us out of the flat. The sight of the Other Half disappearing head first through my bedroom window cheered Small Person no end - we'd previously had her elbow-deep in the letterbox trying to open the door, and I'd lightly threatened her with having to go throught the window herself if the Other Half couldn't fit. She should think herself lucky that we don't have a chimney. The rest of the day passed in a happy haze of park, car cleaning and listening to the DDF's bellowing, screaming and slamming doors into the early evening when they either passed out or stabbed each other to death with corkscrews.

So anyway, I'll post summat proper later. I am currently fending off a mental image of Small Person teaching the other kids at her relentlessly middle-class holiday club the phrase "banana hammock", which the Other Half taught her yesterday and which has delighted her ever since.

How lovely.