I know: we’re in “same old…” territory here – but I love these tiny guys and I know some other people who do too. And I’m very happy to still be finding them at this point in the winter, especially after the recent cold snap. If they can just keep on hanging on a little longer, it should turn warm enough for them to wake up, get jiggy, and complete their life cycle.
Speaking of tiny guys, my own tiny guy woke me at 5.45am, wailing like a banshee because even though he’d woken his mother at 5 and was now crawling all over her in bed, he’d failed to persuade her to get up and make his breakfast. Grandma J didn’t want to make his breakfast either, but I did remove him so that L could get a few minutes more sleep. By 6.30 Baby B had gone through all the toys I could easily lay hands on, and had reprogrammed my alarm clock and tried to log on to internet banking on my phone. He was also reeking like a farmyard, which was the thing that finally won me over to the notion of us getting properly up and dressed. I’m not wholly convinced that he didn’t do it on purpose.
R and I then had great fun with him through the morning and early part of the afternoon, at which point he and L set off back to Wales, and R and I subsided in a shattered heap on the sofa. I do vaguely recall the time when I used to wrangle babies 24/7, but I can’t for the life of me remember how I managed it.