dat is de twestion! yeah!

I find it’s one that kind of answers itself, though. Speaking as a person used to look uncannily like this toddler – and who was much celebrated at one stage for calling up the stairs, as they carried the baby up to bed, “Dood night, sweet prince!” – I feel well qualified to say how cute I think this is, but I also feel a little sorry for Theo. A whole nation of old people cooing over him…

Happy times, though. And a tip of the hat to the good old Graun for blogging this video!

Here I’ve got a 16-year-old daughter in a tutu heading to Old St for some underage club night in slick snow and ice, in a city with no grit in it, no Christmas lights up  yet, a third of an overdue book review to write, two pumpkin pies to make, and precious little time for Hamlet. I haven’t even called my aunt to tell her when to come for Christmas Eve. Fecking slings and arrows of outrageous fortune indeed. Nice weekend though. Every time I got anywhere near the couch, which was only twice, I fell asleep on it.

[Editing in to say the tall blond Rock God who is my middle kid came over from his dad’s with his friend (who has three pregnant dogs in his house) and helped put the lights up. It involved the two of them heaving a thousandweight of sideboard four inches out to get at the outlet, you see… and no pies. Or anything else. The constant grinding of car wheels outside all evening has not improved confidence in Mlle B’s journey home later, either. But we’re all quite happy Rage Against the Machine has beaten Simon Cowell out of the Christmas charts. Comes to something, eh.]

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