It has been absolutely scorching this month (tropical thunderstorms aside) which means one thing: FACTOR 50! You have been blessed with alabaster skin (yes blessed, don't let anyone tell you otherwise) so to keep it perfect, we smother you in suncream. Then daddy puts you in the shade. Indoors. With the curtains drawn.
Anyway, here is a picture of you playing with Hope next door. About an hour later, you came home screaming because you hurt your thumb on the slide.
A quick word about this blog title:
Many years ago, before mummy even knew daddy, she overheard some disgusting, fat chav in a tracksuit in Iceland say, on an equally hot day as today, "Is it warm enough for salad?" To which her pondscum male counterpart thought and replied with a sneer, "Naah," before punching chicken dippers and smiley face potatoes into their trolley.
At a little over a year old, you demanded an olive.
That is called, juxtaposition, Noah.
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