Hearing suspicious whispering and giggling coming from the tiny travellers bedroom this morning I approached with some trepidation, half expecting to find my beloved babies recreating Jackson Pollock’s Blue Poles on the floor or building a scale model of Hiroshima.
Needless to say I was somewhat surprised, and mightily relieved, at the surreal sight of four-year old Raffles studiously mapping out a trail in his Atlas and18-month old Sugarpuff poring over an enormous Indian Cook Book page by page, “oohing” and “aahing” at pictures of curry! Both my delightfully odd children ignoring the zillion and a half pretty picture books on the shelf behind them.
And both looking incredibly guilty when I walked in.
What are they plotting, I wonder?