Thudding of little running feet, and a scraping sound, from upstairs, at 9.45pm. Dad goes to investigate but is told to "Go DOWNSTAIRS, Dad! Go away!". Eliot is taking herself to the bathroom. ('Til now, she has summoned me for the occasional pre-midnight pee with a series of suggestive coughs, which turn into a cry if not noticed quickly enough.)
I remember very well the surprise one night hearing the toilet flush upstairs, sometime when Anselm was three-- I think! If I had had a blog then, I would be able to find out exactly when.. poor undocumented boy.
Subscribe to:
Post Comments (Atom)
No comments:
Post a Comment