Return of a friend

Remember the frogs? Well my children have assured me that this is Dang who has come back to say hello. They 'found' him whilst hunting for a tennis ball a few minutes ago. Which no doubt means that they have squashed loads of plants, uprooted some others, trodden on any bits of exposed soil, knocked lots of plums off the trees, got their trainers covered in mud (needed for school PE lesson tomorrow), lost yet another ball and created general havoc in the previous tidy garden.

I am a firm believer that you're told all the wrong information at ante-natal classes. They stop at the bit where you hold a clean, pretty, gift-wrapped baby in your arms (which incidentally is a lie) following an easy painless labour (ha, another one!). They tell you nothing about the tantrums of a 2-year old; the years of sleep deprivation; the wee, poo and sick which regularly ends up on the carpet; the attitude of a 6-year old and how bad it can get at 12 (tell me it doesn't get any worse?!). And the frogs. They never once mentioned frogs to me, let alone tadpoles hiding in the cupboard. Why not? They never ever told me that my garden would be wrecked by constant attacks with a football, tennis ball, basket ball, cricket ball, rugby ball, any sort of ball. They certainly never mentioned the huge increase in washing, cooking or cleaning.

There is so much you never get to find out until it is way too late to send them back!

Arghh! Children. Love them!