Timid dictator

Bounding bag of black-tan fuz

A howling banshee


Sensory seeking son 17/01/17

Gil falls into me, heavy and relaxed, needing a cuddle. I think he is going to talk about Nellie. Then I feel it. 

Mummy: Gil, are you licking me? 

Gil: And chewing your hair.

Mummy: Why? I really don’t like it. It isn’t nice!

Gil: I’m a leopard eyed scorpion and this is how they show their love. 

He’s undissuadeable…40 minutes later, following concerted licking all over my neck and arms. 

Gil: licking gets a bit boring after a few minutes. 

And he stops, showers, goes to bed calm and sleeps soundly. 

Gil’s 9th Birthday, celebrated 12/01. 

That was AWESOME, proclaimed one very red and sweaty Gil in the midst of his friends – the caving event had gone down a treat. The snow was falling as we left the venue, spinning the magic onwards as we headed for food. They enjoyed grown-up dining at the pizza-pasta restaurant, seated in a booth and ordering their own beverages/meals. Another blink, another year. What a lovely boy…