I never thought I'd complain about not having time to do mundane things like cleaning the house, but this week I've endured a crying, snotty child latched to my foot...leg...hip...I just want to vacuum, is that asking too much? The poor little tacker is teething and as soon as she senses a hint of me moving more than an inch from her, the tears start flooding, along with the snot, down her puffy little face. If I persevere and try to engage in anything as self-indulgent as cooking her dinner, she sniffles and wails after me leaving a snot stream on the floorboards in her wake. The good news is she loves getting out in the car and cycling along in her little bike seat, so the house is a mess, as am I, but at least she's not crying. One such adventure this week was to the Collingwood Children's Farm where Maisie tried to kill the baby goats with her version of gentle patting.
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