I have my skills

Self-deprecation is a British past-time, we don’t really go in for trumpet blowing. As a native of those Isles I follow this national stereotype like an ardent tea drinker. There are very few times I stand up and say I am good at something preferring to sit down and let others take the credit.

I must be good at some things, if I was a complete failure I’m not sure I would be in such a good place in life. What if I wasn’t so humble? Maybe I should take the opportunity to tell the world what I am good at? Do I have a unique ability or skill that I want to shout about and get my horn out for a blowing?

The simple answer is no.


Wanting more parenting time

I am spending a long time on the stairs, not going up or down but trying to make an angry little man stay on one step. Looking at pictures of him from years past it is scary just how much he has come along from the lump of DNA to a strong-minded 4 year old.

It is in those moments where you are dealing with a screaming child that you realise every moment is just hurtling by. It does not seem all that long ago that we were fighting the same battle with the Feliciraptor.