Hubby wants me to tell you about the rat in the car. I think he only wants me too so that I stop banging on about his seedy three-in-a-bed sessions with Sophie and Jocasta.
So...yesterday when I opened the car door to pop five kids in after our morning swim, a rat jumped out. I don't know who squeaked louder, me or the rat. Actually, I do know. It was me. And it was more of a scream than a squeak. And then I had to remind myself that when Hubby goes to Afghanistan I have promised to replace him with, not one, but three of the little furry vermin. So I had better get over myself.
Right, now I need to say goodnight to Son and type up two thousand words whilst Hubby watches final episode of the Wire.
Ta ra!
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