Your mummy and daddy have been poor bloggers of late, but we have been busy. It has been the school holidays and Scout, you were born only a little before it. Now, we had designs of doing a million and one things over this holiday and, in a kind of way, we have. However, what your mummy and I did not fully appreciate was just how difficult it is with two of you. Every task that should take five minutes, takes an hour. You are both very demanding. In the nicest possible way, of course. We have made a conscious effort to reduce your screen time (Noah) to an absolute minimum. We have all but removed the iPad from your life with the exception of bathtime when you are currently watching the following: Chuggington, Dinopaws, Bing and Storytrain. Your obsession with Peppa Pig seems to have abated for now.
Scout, you are currently at 11 weeks old. A more detailed post about you will follow. Noah is looking after you very well indeed. He is a bit heavy-handed with the dummy sometimes, but he means well. He calls you 'my baby' and, when you were just less than two months old, the nursery asked him, "Noah, how old is your little sister?" You just casually replied,
"Seven weeks." Which is an impressive reply, given the fact that you have no real concept of time yet.
It's funny when you wear your Iron Man suit: you cannot seem to get it into your brain that you are NOT Superman.
This slide was at the local park. You looked waaay too small to go on it, but the woman running the thing seemed to want the £1.50 than she wanted a 100% safe ride so she let you on. You were fearless. Our hearts were in our throats every time your tiny body got towards the bottom of the slide and you rolled about with fragile limbs flailing.
You went to a joint birthday party for Sebastian and Jackson (twins) along with some girl called Lilly apparently (you don't go to nursery on the same day as her so we haven't a clue.) You had a brilliant time throwing your hat into some wind machine thing (I can't be bothered to fully explain it here.) You also had balloon fights with a little girl. The hat you see here, you absolutely insisted on wearing every day for the summer months - until it was utterly worn to bits.
Next door had a really huge (and relatively (to you) deep) paddling pool. Even though the water was extremely cold, you were thrashing about in it like a lunatic. An ecstatic lunatic, I must add.
Daddy is having one last swan-song season at football. This was the first week of pre-season. You sat with your malt loaf, fruit and a drink. You had my t-shirt over your legs because you wanted to, "get cosy." You are always insisting on "getting cosy."
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