the fantastic three

I promised Hubby he could have a lie-in this morning: being on leave is really wearing him out, it seems. He got a bit huffy when I said it was no bother, as he doesn't contribute very much to our mornings anyway, other than making me a cup of tea. Unless you count spending forever in the bathroom listening to the World Service as a contribution to family life, that is.

The kids decided not to do their naked dancing this morning. Instead they are having a meeting of their secret society (pronounced sauce-ity if you are Son, and don't think of trying to correct his pronounciation, he won't have it), cleverly called the fantastic three (the alliteration only works if you are young enough to be unable to pronounce 'th' properly!). They have already made up a secret sign and secret password. I think it's only a matter of time before they start solving mysteries involving sinister-looking gypsies camping in the orchard, or something. Not sure what the 21st century nepali equivalent to 1950s Enid Blyton land is - maybe finding some Maoists and preventing them from having another bandh?