Footsteps in the night

Cite this article as:
Kristin Boyle. Footsteps in the night, Don't Forget the Bubbles, 2018. Available at:
https://doi.org/10.31440/DFTB.14690

At first I am unsure what has woken me, perhaps an instinctive awareness that the natural order of our house has been disturbed. I hear a gentle padding in the hallway, then suddenly a small face is hovering next to me. “Move over! Make room for me!” comes the chirpy order, revealing the identity of our interloper. It is Tom, the middle child, and a serial offender. Once the decision has been made to leave the safety of his own bed and venture ten feet down the hallway, he makes it very clear that he will assume a place in the master bedroom. Sometimes, in case his intentions are unclear, he brings his pillow.

Keeping little folk safe

Cite this article as:
Kristin Boyle. Keeping little folk safe, Don't Forget the Bubbles, 2017. Available at:
https://doi.org/10.31440/DFTB.13844

If my house were a workplace, it would be an emergency department. We operate 24-7, there are frequent tears and sometimes blood, and always a little too much to do in the allocated time. We have also recently experienced a surge in workload, which has arrived in the form of a soft cheeked, downy haired, sweet smelling, all around delightful baby boy. We jokingly refer to him as The Royal Baby, for he is indeed a teeny dictator, but a benevolent one who bestows smiles generously upon his subjects, and is happy to converse with one and all, albeit with a limited vocabulary.