God Save The Cadburys

I am one lucky gal

Larry came home from London today, bearing chocolate, plus shortbread. He did an EXCELLENT job, so I might let him go back, if he ever has the chance.

You know when you realize home-owning is fun? When you have to unclog the powder room toilet the minute you put down your suitcase.

For some reason, this week while Larry was gone, ALL THE THINGS happened, so the poor man was bombarded with information the minute he walked in the door. Larry heard all about Brian's audiology appointment (poor kid was going deaf in one ear, because I am the WORST mother in the entire world), the line-up of activities we are scheduled for this weekend, David's plans for the summer, Theo's present whereabouts (he left for the Mideast the same day Larry left for Europe), and then Anna's money-saving decision to move back home for the next few months. I swear, you'd think he had been gone a year.

And now I am realizing that we didn't even get around to telling him about Brian's latest dumb accident (and believe me, it's even dumber than when he dropped his own pants in the potty). When I walked into Brian's room Wednesday morning to make sure he was up for his doctor's appointment, I found myself staring at a ceiling fan with a missing blade. I looked at the wall, expecting to find the blade embedded therein. But no, it was lying quietly, brokenly, on Brian's desk chair, and it didn't look as though there were any blood stains in the room; so, all in all, it could have been worse.

Housekeeping tip for the kids: turn off the ceiling fan BEFORE standing on your bed and trying to unbunch your duvet.

And, yes, I know, this is my fault - I shouldn't insist that the kids make their own beds. Or at least, that's what Brian tried to tell me. Mea culpa.