My boys are on half term and so I have turned into the bacon sandwich and tea bearing hostess that I become when they are home. I spend the day jogging up and down the stairs with snacks, retrieving dirty laundry from the bathroom floor and driving to the train station to collect various friends who join the TV watching throng upstairs. Am I moaning? No. I absolutely love it.
In a blink, these days will be a dim and distant memory. My boys will be independent and gone from me and I shall yearn to find a stray sock on the stairs or to be called upon to whip up a cuppa.