...oops, there goes Clarity (yes, yes, I KNOW it's supposed to be 'gravity' but 'clarity' is more relevant to the following post).
Pulling together a steady stream of conscious thought is tricky right now. It's been a busy couple of days (more of which later), so instead of a thoughtful and insightful post, I'm afraid instead I offer you a couple of snapshots from my week spent 24/7 - otherwise known as half-term 'holiday' - with my boys. Actually, whilst we're at it, I would like to know who originally called the half term break a 'holiday'? Because, whilst I love my sons, having them both at home all day ever day is not particularly holiday-like for me...
The Boys were playing with their cousin. Boy #2 - as the youngest and therefore the bossiest of the three - had appointed himself in charge. He was a doctor. Of course. After prodding his older (male) cousin in the nipples a few times - with what I am reliably informed were ice-cold fingers - and tapping away on his imaginery key board to investigate his findings, he decided to operate. At which point, older cousin decided he had had enough, and announced that he - the patient - had died.
My 3 year old son's response to this shocking news?
"Quick! Hide the body!!"
Whatever you do, don't tell the GMC.
Boy #2 was playing taxi drivers in the parking spot outside my parent's house, sitting in my car with the windows open. My father walked past. Boy #2 poked his head out of the window and asked my father - very reasonably, I thought - if he wanted a ride to Egypt. Very cheap, only 2p, he added. No thanks, responded my father. I have to mow the lawn.
The taxi driver was not impressed by this shoddy prioritising. Leaning out of the car window again, he shouted out at his disappearing fare "All right, mate. It's your choice..."
And I had thought his older brother was the comedian...