I love him really. Honest.
I've had some trouble this week thinking what to write about.
It's all very well for me to post inane drivel on my own blog, but A Mischief I feel deserves something more.
Unfortunately I still couldn't think of anything interesting so inane drivel's what you've got.
I blame the Easter holidays.
I'm slowly losing my mind.
Two and a half weeks. I'm sure when I was at school we didn't get such long holidays. Two weeks at Xmas, a four day weekend in Febuary, two weeks at Easter, six weeks in summer and one week in October.
The Boy gets far more than that.
And all the staff wish us a happy holiday like it's a fun time or something.
The Boy is bored, the weather is miserable, and I'm finding myself looking forward to my ex coming over this evening to look after his son, so that I can go to Tesco.
I can't wait.
A whole 25 minutes on my own. Bliss.
There are 13 days to go until he goes back to nursery. How on earth do parents who also hold down jobs manage it? Where do they put their children? Under their desks?
Perhaps it's me. Perhaps other mothers relish the opportunity to spend even more time with their little darlings. Maybe motherhood is fulfilling in some way that I've missed.
What time is it? Just gone 2pm?
12 and a half days to go, really...