I have a moth infestation in my house. I keep thinking that I am going to open a cupboard to find my woollens eaten right through. It started as an innocuous presence in my lounge and has now moved to full-scale house invasion. One extermination has not worked; we now move to the second stage. The man with the chemicals is returning. This can't be good with children and a puppy in the house. I feel like we should hold our breath. The moths in question are called woolly bears! Seriously! This is not a joke. They really are. Oh the joys of (a house that is over 300 years old) home-ownership.
Meanwhile, in IKEA, both of my children demonstrated that they are are products of their environment. Nature/Nurture? I think I have nurtured two little monsters judging by their behaviour. Am I the only mother whose offspring take on a 'Veruca Salt' quality when in large retail establishments? We all know what happened to Veruca salt; she was a bad nut and she went down the chute. Thank goodness for Roahl Dahl - that's all I can say. When they act this way all I have to utter is '
Veruca' in a hushed voice and they know; they've gone too far. Nevertheless though, wouldn't it be wonderful to have gracious, grateful children?
How can they want so much when they have so much?  |
| Oh Veruca... |
In pursuit of the capsule wardrobe, I have embraced grey. This happens every autumn, when I decide that grey is the answer to all of my sartorial woes. The result is a a cupboard of (potentially moth-eaten) greyness...I have 15 versions of the grey knit; how many is too many? Must try a new colour...
Finally, what are little boys made of? Slugs and snails...you recall the rhyme. My son never fails to amaze me. That is all.
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