You know, I thought I loved Saturday when it was the only day in the week I had a chance to stay in bed beyond 6am. Now I’m up feeding at 5.45 regardless, Saturday has become the only day in the week we have Timothy to ourselves. Which is EVEN BETTER. For all sorts of reasons, but not having to change all the nappies looms large on the list.
This Saturday was freezing cold. Winter has decided it wants in on this season after all, and is making a daring last dash into February. How very dare it. And our house was not made for cold. I woke up this morning, realised the bedroom was an icebox, and went to forage downstairs for a baby and some extra blankets. It was like a scene from The Day After Tomorrow, and I totally felt that there should be more snow suits and Dennis Quaid being all frost-faced. On Dennis’ behalf we took this emergency situation as seriously as possible, and stayed in bed.
Ok, not all of the day. Just quite a lot of it. We watched Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows Part Two – oh, Harry, I miss you in my life – and had porridge for breakfast and King Toasties for lunch. Henry grew some teeth, and didn’t like it much.
Then we were brave and went out to B&Q for a heater for Henry’s room, wearing so many layers we banged into all sorts of things on the way out of the front door.
On our return, it was actually snowing and there was a full-on icicle hanging out of one of our pipes. An icicle, dudes. Big leagues. So we got back under the duvet and had take-out for dinner. Because, as Timothy wisely opined, we should save our food for when the snow has blocked the front door. Come on, you know Dennis would say the same.