I cannot wait for Mousie to go back to daycare. Don't get me wrong, I love him to death and he can be fun to be with, but he is a child which needs routine. Or he becomes a whingey beast.
We've been ridiculously lazy over the holidays, barely going out, so we've given into a lot of the boys' seemingly harmless demands to play their computer games or watch their DVDs. And as a result they are spoiled brats and yesterday's trip to the National Museum proved it. Mousie blatently ignored everything I and Mormor asked or told him, and if The Foo's blood sugar dipped even a little or he was a bit tired, he would become a tantruming demon. Baby Bumptious was the best behaved and even she got in on the whining and crying while I was trying to make dinner, hence the less than palatable fish cakes. Which almost no one would have eaten anyway.Too mushy and foregn for Moo and too fishy for the Chief. Though Baby B, The Foo and I ate them, enjoyed is another thing.
So the whip has been well and truely snapped and a semblence of order has returned to the Clan House. The Chief has an Oblie-Goblie holiday tomorrow, so he's getting the boys for an hour or so (doesn't know it yet) and Mormor and I will do some crafty-foody retail therapy.
After two days of chasing the Weans through the hallowed halls of Finland's finest, I can say I'm well sick of museums and looking forward to buying reindeer products and more yarn that I will probably never get around to knitting with.
Now if I could just find an easy cure for the case of Adult Insomnia that seems to be stalking the Household.
On the up side, the Baby Most Bumptious has cut her first tooth. Truely scrumptious.