(Those of a delicate disposition, look away now.)
The high temperatures of my wife and children have now been replaced by a dodgy tummies and frequent trips to the loo. Or in Lucy's case frequent nappy changes.
I remain as fit as a fiddle. Knackered, but as fit as a fiddle.
I did learn in the course of conversation on this subject yesterday eveving that my son seems to share my wife's love of bottom humour. Any joke involving a bottom usually makes Hayley laugh. So when I told Oliver last night "I'm the only one of us who doesn't have a squirty bottom" he roared with laughter.
Not my usual line in dry wit, but worth the lowering of standards: I just love making him laugh.
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