Do we have mice?

He looks at me all serious and says "I think one or both of the children have been climbing up on the worktop, going in the cupboard and stealing Jelly Babies!"

I look at him all sheepish and say, quiet as a mouse, "It was me".

Sugar Rush

At Casa Laura this is the look we associate with too much sugar ...



... wide eyed and crazy with a hint of 4 year old charm

She only licks the icing ...

I have always been very conscious of the amount of sugar that the 4 year old eats. Anything more toxic than chocolate buttons and her head is guaranteed to spin as she bounces off the walls. I kid you not; she even has nightmares (usually about the man) when she’s overdosed on sugar. Don’t even get me started on fizzy drinks or Fruit Shoots. Snack wise I always try and lean towards the raisins/fruit option before the sweets and biscuits. This has thus far worked and makes life much easier. Both children have their fair share of sweets and biscuits, just in moderation. Control freak? Me? Never.

I am already twitching at the start of the ‘silly season’. Christmas is a time of many parties … out spring the guilty pleasures of my 4 year old; Cheesy Wotsits, buns (of which she only licks the icing) and unsolicited party bags brimming with a variety of sweets.

I recently discovered that the forces are against me; the force of Daddy. On the way to school we saw a sign outside a local shop advertising ice cream. As I had just scraped ice off my car I thought it amusing and made a comment to the 4 year old about it not being the sort of weather to be partaking in a 99 with sprinkles and sauce. This jolted one of her memories from her ever random memory bank …

Her - “Mummy, once when you were out Daddy said we could have an ice cream and some sweets. Then YOU rang to say you were on your way home and he said we couldn’t have anything because you’d tell him off”.

Me - “Do you think I’m mean?”

Her - “Yes”

Me - “Do you think Daddy’s mean?”

Her - “No”

I may be mean but he’s busted and he doesn’t even know it (until, that is, he reads this).

My husband would live on Midget Gems if he could. He has learnt to conceal his quarter bags of the little buggers from the children. Unfortunately, even the 2 year old who we suspect suffers from periodic deafness can identify the rustle of a paper bag filled with sweets. On the occasions they have discovered his stash they beg him, with their big eyes for a hit of the good stuff. He of course crumbles under the weight of his heart being tugged and the gentle whine of his beautiful babies. This, I have found, often happens within half an hour of bedtime and also coincides with the nights I am on bath and bed duty.

This, I refer to as ‘Daddy writing cheques that Mummy has to cash’.