Noisy but Tiny...

Something has changed in BabyBoy3 over Christmas.

It's almost as though his internal volume has been turned up.

I suppose he has always been a bit loud when he’s playing and having fun.

But all of a sudden he seems to be operating at 11...

BabyBoy3: ‘OK Miss6 let’s try it now… aahhh ahhh’

Miss6: ‘Nope’ <Shakes head> ‘Can’t really hear you?’

BabyBoy3: ‘How about NOW? CAN YOU HEAR THIS?’

Miss6: ‘Yes that’s better, but can you any louder?’

BabyBoy3: ‘IS THIS BETTER???’

Miss6: ‘Yes! That’s the volume’ <Has hands over ears>

<They high five on a job well done>

(Inside voice on left, outside voice on right…)

Obviously Team Parent (yay!) had a chat about it.

Not just because the increased volume was starting to get into our heads a bit. But also because BabyBoy3 seems to have stopped listening as well.

My first thoughts are that there is something jammed in his ears. Which is adjusting his volume and hearing. A crayon maybe, the lost Paw Patrol dog, brio track, Miss6...

But after a quick Maglite (I always have one on me, I'm that kinda of secret agent Dad, armed) check all I can see is some ear wax. Ew. And that Team Parent (yay!) need to be a bit more ruthless when cleaning his neck, as it's a bit mucky.

BabyBoy3 hates having water near his ears. So our slip on cleaning that part of him can, I feel, be forgiven a little bit. As it's not normally worth the fight...

OK BabyBoy3, we'll just rinse out your hair, lay down… good boy...

<BabyBoy3 lays super carefully in a inch of bath water>

There we go... <Is rinsing it out> All clean...

<Super calm voice> Now... We'll just wash your ears...

BabyBoy3: 'NONONONO!!!NO!!NOOO!!!!' <Quickly rolls over, hides face under arms>

You know... That's not very helpful...

<Is faced with BabyBoy3's bum sticking up at me>

Might as well clean that whilst I'm here... Brace yourself...

<Lots of giggling>

But what has caused this increase in volume?

We've no idea. It could just be Christmas, which BabyBoy3 found hella exciting.

From start to finish the little lad squealed and shrieked with excitement with almost everything Christmasy related. Fair play. He’s three. And Christmas ROCKS.

It was soooo lovely to see. And being the foolish Team Parent (yay!) that we are, we clapped and laughed along, and gave tonnes of attention to him every time he squealed or shrieked.

So it could be that.

But something tells it isn't.

In fact something tells me we are never gonna work out what has caused this change. As it could be loads of things really: BabyBoy3 keeps getting bigger so maybe his little lungs have just got bigger, and with that increase in air space, an increase in volume has resulted. Maybe he's just got more to say and volume is his way of getting attention. It works for Boy10. Obvs. the hearing answer is still on the table.

See loads of things. Three at least.

LOADS.

There’s a funny side effect of this volume increase.

BabyBoy3 seems bigger. He seems to take up more space in the world. Not in a physical way. But the sound space he now occupies has got larger.

It's the same with Miss6 and Boy10. When they are not about Team Parent (yay!) notice the sudden drop in noise and the house feels huge. It's hard to explain.

It's like a colleague at work that's all noisy and talks loudly on their phone all the time. Then they nob off on hols (the selfish swines)... and suddenly the office is quiet...

[Eerie quiet]

Er... Hello? <Leans around monitor> Is anyone there? Hello?

<Walks about a bit, finds no-one>

Hello? ... Where have you all gone? Was there cake and no-one told me?

[Even more eerie quiet]

I like cake too!?

[Cleaners bustle in]

Cleaner: 'Wow! You're here late! That’s not like you?’

Rude! I'm WHAT? <Checks clock> CRAP!

<Leaves immediately>

(Friend: ‘Have you lost weight?’

Yeah… but I’ve grown these ears…

...and a tail <Is worried>

Friend: ‘And what’s up with your cheeks?’

I’m storing cheese for the winter...

Friend: ‘Oh…’ <Is worried>)

It also means that I spend a fair bit of time telling BabyBoy3 to be quieter.

In fact my favourite expressions for this are:

1. Dude! I am sat right next to you, stop shouting at me!

2. Inside voice! Inside voice, please!

3. ARHGHGGH that's right in my ear! DUDE!

4. If you want me, come and find me, stop hollering my name!

Now... What did you want?

<Shows me the LEGO he has made>

It's amazeballs... <Is not that thrilled to have left what I was doing to be shown this>

It came to head yesterday.

I had been spring cleaning. Which meant I had half of my tools out of my shed and had spent a delightful morning painting the down-stairs toilet. Banging tunes blocking out everyone else, whilst I painted, hoovered and dusted. Lovely.

Leaving poor Mrs. Amazing to battle with troops all morning solo. She was promoted to  ‘Absolute Ruler of Everything in the Entire Universe Forever’ again for her hard work and dedication to the cause.

When I had finally finished.

We all bundled into the car and headed off for a fun family outing. Me and Mrs. Amazing in the front. Miss6 and BabyBoy3 in the back. Boy10 travelled in another car (long story, another time).

Within the space of ten minutes and with Miss6 and BabyBoy3 super excited about our trip out. And a bit nuts anyway. I had lent around four times to ask / tell BabyBoy3 to quieten down. I wasn't even driving. But suddenly now in the car. In that confined space. BabyBoy3's voice was too big for me and it was drilling into my head.

Just like a sledgehammer drilling into a grape.

Ish.

Mrs. Amazing however was not struggling.

Mrs. Amazing had spent the morning with Miss6 and BabyBoy3 and was used to it.

Not liking it mind. But used to it.

She told me so too and I realised who the problem here was. It wasn’t BabyBoy3.

So I shut up and started to put up.

Anyhoo… the tale...

BabyBoy3 awoke at 4:MERCY AM this morning.

I hear. As it was Mrs. Amazing that has relayed this to me. I was very skillfully and utterly asleep, dreaming of being warm and toasty in bed and able to sleep for at least an hour or two more. Great dream.

But just a dream.

At about 5:30 AM.

Mrs. Amazing sweetly turned to me and amazingly managed to wake me.

And said (something like, I may have made this up paraphrased)...

Mrs. Amazing: 'Please can you take him?'

Mrs. Amazing: 'I've been up since the Paleolithic period...'

<Answers in eye movements as mouth not working yet>

<Manages to convey yes>

I am pretty sure Mrs. Amazing was expecting me to leap into action.

She's optimistic like that. I did hit my Storm Trooper (clock) on the head to see what the time was. So I could make the best plan possible. ARGHO’Clock.

My plan had to be weighted with the problem that Miss6 had to stay asleep. Ergo, BabyBoy3 could not go play in his room on his own. As he V. noisy.

Nor could we sneak down for Cartoons, as BabyBoy3 V. noisy, and Miss6 will hear the tele.

Also there was no way I was getting up at 5:30AM to go watch cartoons. The heating hadn't come on yet.

It would be freezing down there.

(Maybe a slight exaggeration... the Christmas tree has gone...

We've less snow on the floor normally... and follicly I am more challenged...

Boy10: <Shouts from far away> 'YOU MEAN BALD DON'T YOU? AH HA HA HAAA!'

I WILL FIND YOU AND GET YOU WHOEVER YOU ARE! <Shakes fist>

Ignore him... follicly challenged...)

So in the best of Dad moves.

I did nothing and let BabyBoy3 sneak between us both in bed.

I did ask him nicely if he wouldn't mind going back to sleep for a little while.

BabyBoy3 said yes. Good chap.

Mrs. Amazing rolled over with a clear 'Do not disturb' aura about her back.

And with confidence in BabyBoy3, I closed my eyes again.

15 milliseconds later.

I had another quiet word with BabyBoy3 about the noise.

And feet in faces. And low kicks. Ow.

At one point I realised that in the tiny gap between Mrs. Amazing and me, BabyBoy3 was laid out sideways. Sideways! How tiny is he! His little face peering into mine and his feet resting on Mrs. Amazing's back.

Moments later. Another word. Which BabyBoy3 decided the best way to listen to me would be to stand up in our bed. And bounce a bit.

I disagreed.

At 6AM I gave in.

The heating had come on. And asked BabyBoy3 if he would like to go watch cartoons with me downstairs...

BabyBoy3: 'WHOOOHOOOO!'

<Whispering> Quietly... <Gives look>

BabyBoy3: 'SORRY DADDY, SORRY!'

Shhhh!

BabyBoy3: '... sorry daddy... shhhh' <Puts finger over mouth hella cutely>

We stopped to get BabyBoy3's dressing gown.

Which he doesn't likes wearing. But as that's what you do in the morning. That's what he does.

We put it on. Me knowing it won't last more than a minute downstairs. But whatevs.

I grab his duvet too as I want to be a lot warmer than I am right now.

And then, despite a lot of noise from one of us...

BabyBoy3: 'DADDY? IS MISS6 ASLEEP?'

<Barely audible>... yes... shhh...

BabyBoy3: 'OK!'

[Thud thud on stairs]

We made it downstairs.

Without waking Miss6. Result. I turned the tele right down and we snuggled under the duvet together. Which I hella love doing. I’m a cartoons fan anyway but I utter love getting some extra time with BabyBoy3. Just us.

It's always amazebadgers.

A post shared by Tales from the... Dad Side! (@talesfromthedadside3) on Dec 31, 2017 at 11:39pm PST

(Hella cute)

Then we argued.

Me Vs. BabyBoy3. Because in BabyBoy3’s world when you wake up, you get chocolate milk.

That is how it always done, and how it should always be done, and will always be done.

I, on the other, refused very clearly to make chocolate milk until it was official wake up time, 6:30AM. BabyBoy3 does not understand and starts crying.

Loudly.

Oh no little fella!

That is not happening! We haven't been working hard to not wake Miss6 for you to now wake her. Blackmailing some chocolate milk out of me with your crying!

NO! I'm the flipping adult... <Checks> yeah! We do things my way!

YEAH!

So I tell him off.

Just a very little. But the message is clear, no milk until 6:30AM and if you wake Miss6 up?... Well... then... Daddy will be pretty cross, and basically powerless to do anything about, as you're only three, but the threat… Oooo yeah! Just pay attention to the threat, ignore the details.

<Does mystical hands>

Somehow it works and BabyBoy3 stops crying.

Then my little boy goes uber cute on me. UBER. He wriggles over right next to me under the duvet, leans against me, and puts his hand on my back. BLESS!

His little feet under the duvet don't even come up to my knees.

If I lent out my arm I could happily and comfortably rest my arm on his head (which he doesn't like).

It's then that BabyBoy3 seems to shrink.

And becomes tiny again. As all the noise around this little boy goes. It just seems to disappear.

Left sat next to me quietly watching Bob the Builder (the new-style US version SUUUUUUCKS), is a tiny little boy. Just three. That has been acting so big lately I had kind of forgotten just how little he really is.

<Heart utterly melts for him, and he isn't even doing anything>

I put my arm around him and he snuggles into it.

<I'm basically fighting back tears now>

And we just sit, and giggle, about Bob being a twat and utter US sellout doing his job poorly.

As normal...

BabyBoy3: <Whispers with spit> 'Daddy... Is it time for milk yet?'

<Checks time, it's 6:30AM on the dot> Yeah mate...

BabyBoy3: 'Me help you?'

Sure!

BabyBoy3: 'YAYY!' <Runs to kitchen>

<Takes a minute to re-solidify heart (that melted) and remove mysterious moisture streaming from eyes>

Right! Can you get the milk out?...

<Is uber glad to have these moments with BabyBoy3, despite the earlyness (real word)>

<But may refrain from mentioning that to Mrs. Amazing>

X

(BabyBoy3: ‘Me help’

Cool… Oh wait… Hang on… careful now!!!

BabyBoy3: ‘Oppsie!’’

<Gets cloth>)

Tinsillitis... Merry Christmas!

I was gonna name this tale ‘A Classic Christmas with kids’ as that's what it feels like.

The same kind of Christmas we've had ever since Boy10 rocked up all those years ago.

But I went with tinsillitis as it has loads more aptyness (real word).

There were clues on Christmas Eve.

Of what was to come. Now that we are looking back full of looky-back-wiseyness and cheese. Miss6 had told us that she was heading upstairs for a sleep. Bit weird at lunch time. And Team Parent (yay!) had just assumed Miss6 was still worn out from the school term, or was just going up to do some hardcore colouring in. As she does sometimes.

In all the excitement, cheese, and frantic last minute wrapping, ninjaing around trying not to make a sound, cheese, asking Boy10 what the smeg is he still doing up at 11pm when Santa's on his way. Well during all that... Team Parent (yay!) may have forgotten to stop to think through what was going on with Miss6.

And well those clues got missed.

(Diagnosis? Christmas nutter...)

Where's Miss6?

Boy10: <Is picking nose> ‘She went for a lie down’

Cool… <Gives frowny face>

Boy10: <Eats it and grins at me>

<Ignores Boy10’s grossness>

<Thinks about Miss6>

<Thinks more>

<Eats some cheese>

<Thinks even more>

Hang on! <Stands>

That's bad on Christmas Eve!!! Wake her, wake her immediately!!!
She'll never sleep tonight

<Runs>

Christmas Day

Our morning started at 4:30am. As BabyBoy3 randomly woke up and came to see us.

He was guided back to bed, sweetly not spotting the stockings full of presents outside everyone’s rooms, by Mrs. Amazing. And amazingly convinced back to sleep.

For a whole hour. Oooo-wee let the good times roll.

At 5:30am BabyBoy3 was up again and this time with Miss6 in tow. Who did spot all the stockings etc.

Whilst Team Parent do have a ‘We don’t want to see you until 6:30am’ rule. It is relaxed on Christmas Day. And by relaxed I mean utterly ignored and the day just started there and then. Despite the look on my face.

Boy10 was up in moments and we all climbed onto Team Parent’s (yay!) bed to open our stocking presents from Father Christmas. Not before Mrs. Amazing quickly ran off to make essential cups of tea, and chocolate milk for the troops.

My role whilst she was gone was stopping any early present opening occuring.

It was hella tough. Two slipped through.
<Hangs head>

Our Christmas breakfast wasn’t great.

Which is a shame as it’s important to Mrs. Amazing. It’s a special breakfast to her.

A bit of a fight with Boy10 over when the present opening should happen, and how dressed, and how full of breakfast they should be, happened. And ended when someone, no names, stormed off to Boy10’s room and had a bit of a sulk with thinking time, in Boy10’s bed, wearing Boy10’s clothes, smelling like Boy10. The rest of us had a very nice calm breakfast.

Whoever it was’s (??) problem is that they get too excited and don’t know how to channel all that energy. Yet. I am sure Boy10 an unnamed child of mine will get it one day.

Sometimes Team Parent (yay!) handle these situations brilliantly…. Other times we’ve had a little under five hours sleep so it’s a bit of relief when he, or she, (he) storms off.

Despite loving the calmness Mrs. Amazing deeply missed Boy10 though.

Unnamed person came back eventually. Made an excellent Christmas apology (like a normal apology, but very much coloured by the fact there are present very close).

All friends again.

We ate, we cleared, we packed.

Then we headed off to Grannie-Amazing’s for the rest of Christmas Day. Bonza!

At Grannie-Amazing’s Mrs. Amazing’s sister and family joined us. Taking the totals to six adults and five children. Which may sound good in the adults favour, but that’s four boys, BabyBoy3, Nephew4, Nephew6, Boy10 and a Miss6. A smorgasbord of ages to enjoy.

And of course those six adults sober and not full of cheese would be more up to the task. But it’s Christmas, sober and not full of cheese don’t really happen with my family, or Mrs. Amazing’s. More so with her’s.

Miss6 struggled.

And lasted about two hours before she complained of a headache. The boys were too noisy. They probably were if you were in a forty inch thick concrete bunker had a headache. Poor love.

So Miss6 went upstairs and chilled out for a bit. Put on headphones and sang along to the music on her MP3 player. Which is both hilarious and brilliant to watch / hear.

Christmas dinner arrived and Miss6 declined. Headache.

She wasn’t even there for presents under the tree opening. Shocking I know.

She guest-starred for a bit, and unwrapped one or two. But mainly she missed it and sat playing quietly with her Glimmies (oh don’t ask, they glow in the dark, I just go with these things now).  She was sorely missed as without her the family dynamics change drastically.

Nephew6 is her bestie, which normally leaves Nephew4 to play with BabyBoy3, and Boy10 to be kind of like a sweeper going around the children and adults.

Without Miss6, Nephew6 and Nephew4 played together. Boy10 was left alone.

And I was upgraded to BabyBoy3’s best bud for the day, a rather larger, and grumpier, Miss6 replacement.

It was awesome. But tiring.

BabyBoy3: ‘Daddy? Canyou’dis with me?’ <Cute eyes> <Tugging at me>

<Is eating cheese> Hang on… Yes mate… <Crumbs everywhere>

What are we doing?

BabyBoy3: <Points>

Right! General cars playing and stuff. Brilliant!

<Sits on floor>

<Face becomes track almost instantly>

Ow! EYE! EYE-EYE caramba!

Eventually it is bedtime.

For BabyBoy3 first. He is a bit teary to be going to bed. As clearly he hella loves Christmas. Because all day everyone has given him brilliant presents. I don’t blame him, I still love it, Christmas rocks! and this is only his third.

But BabyBoy3 still has to sleep, as we’ve Christmas V2 to do tomorrow at my Mum’s house.

And by now all the adults would like to switch to adult mode and really make some headway into the cheese, booze, swearing and watching tele.

The bedtime plan.

Was to have BabyBoy3 in with us on the floor on a mattress. Miss6 in with my two nephews. Yet plans are made of sugar-glass and easily break. No matter how shiny and sparkly and delicious they may be. The plan is changed as Miss6 is still poorly. She’s in with us.

BabyBoy3 is upgraded to sleeping on the mattress on the bedroom floor with me two nephews. Who will sneak in later, once he’s asleep, uber quietly, to sleep on the bunk beds.

Clear? Good. <Ignores your protests>

I then spend twenty of the most uncomfortable minutes.

Ever in my life getting BabyBoy3 to sleep. I am a bit drunk. Full of cheese. In a dark room, on the floor. And forced to sit at an awkward angle so BabyBoy3 can touch my arm, but still be on the mattress.

I stagger out.

Then the plan goes into action.

One by one the children are bedded, and slowly the adults switch to stretchy trousers.

And glasses are charged, a lot. Leaving just Boy10 up as he’s allowed to stay up a bit.

Does he use this time well? No. No he does not.

At one point he has twisted his loose tooth so much he cannot now twist it back. So it is sticking out at a funny angle on his face and can be seen as a lump on his cheek.

I offer to help deal with his teeth problem in a old fashioned way. Boy10 strangely declines.

He’s learning quick.

(Teeth adjustments… Ew...)

Boy10 is bundled into bed.

Not before his tooth comes out. Which he proudly shows us all, and reminds Team Parent (yay!) and the Tooth Fairy obv. That he will be expecting to find some cash under his pillow in the morning.

But finally. All the children are asleep. The adult all clear siren is sounded, quietly.

PHEW!

Until Miss6 arrives downstairs.

She has been sick and wet herself (Which I only add as that is what happened. And because people do have accidents. And it’s daft to pretend they don't. That just makes it all the more embarrassing when people do. OK? <Shakes fist>).

Team Parent (yay!) leap into gear. I find cleaning products and go clean the carpet. Which I am acutely aware is in the room I plan to sleep in later. So am in a bind over how much chemical smell I want Vs. puke smell. Lovely.

Mrs. Amazing looks after Miss6, warms her backup, and settles her.

Twenty mins later. A bit slurry and blurry. My job is done. I think I’ve done well.

Mrs. Amazing confirms I’ve done well. Which may sound funny, but Mrs. Amazing has been sobered by Miss6 being sick.

And I have not.

Miss6 is given Calpol.

Oh sweet children elixir. Miss6 is eventually put back in bed. Our bed. Not the floor.

And Mrs. Amazing heads to bed with her, to watch over her. But not before helping out the Tooth Fairy with the tooth-coin issue.

I finish watching the excellent Kingsman: The Secret Service film that is on.

And then head straight up to bed after eating more cheese, a quick bedtime drinky, more cheese, chocs, cheese, water.

Into bed I hop.

Mrs. Amazing: ‘OY STOP HOPPING!’

It's not comfy as Miss6 is in there too. But it is what is. Balanced on the edge of the bed, next to two people that sleep at the heat of a billion suns. One who’s got a temperature.

I somehow manage to sleep.

Until BabyBoy3 comes in at some ghastly hour. Four in the bed doesn’t work soooo badly. That Miss6 gives up her space and heads to mattress on the floor. Leaving BabyBoy3 between Team Parent (yay!).

Now as I had spent most of the day with BabyBoy3 he gravitates my way. Which is nice.

But also I have the most annoying nights sleep ever, as he kicks, scrapes, pokes, twitches, kicks in the giblets, OW OW OW OWWWW! All through the night.

Mrs. Amazing does her best to help.

But really it’s a night I would rather forget forever.

Boxing Day

We breakfast. And then a rapid meeting of Team Parent (yay!) is called.

Normal boxing day procedure is that I head home, feed the cat, shower, unload presents on my own. Get a few minutes to myself. Yay. Then come back from them all, and it's off to my Mum's.

But Mrs. Amazing delivers the illness bomb. Miss6 needs to rest. It is unlikely that Miss6 will make it to my Mum’s for boxing day. Nor will Mrs. Amazing.

I am unhappy with this. We chat for a while until it becomes clear what is most important, and what we need to focus on. Presents. Being all together at Christmas.

We change the plan, and if after Miss6 has a rest and she is up for it. Miss6 and Mrs. Amazing will join us at my Mum’s. As my family's Christmas runs very late. We are talking presents starting at 4pm late. Which I am used to. But it is still mind bending for Mrs. Amazing.
Mrs. Amazing: 'WHY???'

But we won’t stay at my Mum’s overnight, as Miss6 is too sick for that.

Which means no matter how we do it, I have to be sober.

<Weeps>

Me, Boy10 and BabyBoy3 sobery head off.

To my Mum’s for Christmas V2. We have a lovely day. Most of my brothers are there, and despite having to stay sober, we laugh a lot. Especially during the traditional ‘Play really loud music whilst the sons do all the washing up’ fun the brothers do. Mum interrupts at one point, and is moshed around for a bit.

Tears of laughter all round.

(Just leave the plate...

<Sneaks carrots onto my Dad’s plate>)

Then I get a message from Mrs. Amazing.

Now in the light of day she has noticed huge white spots at the back of Miss6’s throat.

It’s probably tonsillitis, but as it’s Christmas, it’s tinsillitis.

Miss6 apparently finds this very funny.

Mrs. Amazing and Miss6.

Never do make it over to my Mum’s. Instead they wait for a doctor to phone on Boxing Day.

Miss6 needs antibiotics quickly. They are heading out to a local hospital, just as me, Boy10 and BabyBoy3 arrive home.

At 8pm.

They come back thirty minutes later.

With Penicillin which tastes foul. Miss6 takes her dose and is bundled to bed.

(Thank you NHS as always you are utterly fantastic. I love you).

Mrs. Amazing is knackered out having spent all day with Miss6 and is in serious need of some adult company. The swearier the better. Fing’Ay!

But Team Parent (yay!) don’t last long and are soon heading to bed for sleep.

Christmas done for another year. Wonderful though it was. Both of them.

We are utterly, utterly pooped out and crawl into out bed together.

And just want to sleep.

A post shared by Tales from the... Dad Side! (@talesfromthedadside3) on Dec 28, 2017 at 2:02am PST

(Have I mentioned there's more tales on Instagram? No?)

(Well there is! Herey)

Except.

Except that Boy10 somehow managed to have another tooth come out today (??).

There is a quick vote and somehow I win by a landslide and have to help the Tooth Fairy out. Luckily I had grabbed a coin off my Dad earlier. So our normal no change panic was avoided.
However as I reluctantly get back out of my warm, lovely bed, into the cold, cold air. Just in pants.
I give Mrs. Amazing a frowny, grumpy look. She just snuggles deeper under the covers.
As I leave I want to say something witty and clever, as I'm a bit narked off about having to do the Tooth Fairy job. But in my sleep and Christmas addled state I only manage to say ‘Grumble grumble’. Which Mrs. Amazing doesn’t quite hear, so I have to repeat it.

Witty and clever, on the second telling, it flipping is not.

I helped the Tooth Fairy out recently.

She’s busy some nights. See ‘My Tooth Fairy Impression‘, because in that you can see that from me there is a kindness and desire to maintain the magic for Boy10 that can almost bring a tear to my own eye. <Sniffs>

But not this night. I wasn’t like that Boxing Day eve...

<Stumbles in>

<Reaches in forcefully for tooth knocking Boy10 asunder>

<Throws coin in in (!) exchange>

<Stumbles back to bed... and sleeps a lot>

Actually that way was quicker... hmmm…

<Makes note>

Merry Christmas all!

X

P.S. Miss6 is recovering very nicely and is full of beans again, and still thinks the medicine is foul. But finds extremely sugary tea helps.
X