Potty purgatory
In case you missed my last Facebook update (that would be you, the world) we’re tackling the dreaded potty training this week. The timing comes amid reports that one in ten primary schools have children in Reception unable to control their bladders. I read this in part shock, part smug satisfaction (whilst watching my little one dance in his own puddles) knowing that in a week’s time I’ll be over the hump, my son commode-confident and nappy free (well, except for nighttime. Heavens, I’m not that ambitious). But my cold-turkey approach (all pants, all the time, there is NO going back) means I’m more or less bound to the homestead– the equivalent of wearing one of those celeb-trendy anklets a la Lindsay Lohan. You get the...
The Parent Trap
With two little boys I’m constantly scouring the recesses of my limited grey matter for fun, educating activities, family friendly days out, weekend jaunts, games, field trips, playdates and striking the right balance between mental and physical stimulation. It’s been my life over this interminable Easter holiday. Thankfully, in London there is no shortage of culture, history and fun, exciting things to do. (To all those curmudgeons who bemoan raising children in London– I say pah!) Museums, plays, drama camp, sport camp and a cheeky pilgrimage to the Norfolk coast– few days went unaccounted. For sure the four week holiday (FOUR WEEKS!?!) is enough to put the fear of god into any parent. Risk of cabin fever, mental atrophy and the dreaded...
