Thursday, 13 December 2012

Jammy

The other day a new-ish colleague came across a courier wandering round our office building looking lost. In his arms he carried a Lakeland box.

"Ah - I know who that will be for" she said, pointing him straight in my direction.

And yes, she was right.

Clearly it's no secret that I dabble in a spot of online Lakeland-ing whenever I can find an excuse. So when I was asked if I fancied trying out some jam-making kit the chances of me saying no were about as high as me not eating the entire box of Lindor hidden in the kitchen cupboard before I finish writing this. <wipes chocolate from keyboard>


The jars and jar labels were - even to a novice like myself - fairly self-explanatory. The matching lids (which come separately) do away with the need for fiddly waxed paper circles on top of the jam so that was a definitely bonus (memories of burned fingers during last conserve venture back in the 1980s.) 

The girl and I had planned to head off to the local pick-your-own farm and come back full of laden with tons of fresh fruit to turn into jams of various flavours. But the never-ending rain put a stop to all that (on the basis it was meant to be fun rather than an endurance test) and so we plumped for the tin (shown above) instead. I admit I was a little suspicious that it would be full of all sorts of nasties (as tins so often are) but was pleased to discover it's actually a pure fruit puree - plain and simple. 

Not having to wash/peel/chop/hull the fruit left plenty of time to prepare our labels...


(...although not so much that we entirely mastered the "J")

The fruit, together with sugar and water, bubbled until we hit a rolling boil and we tested for setting.


This was the bit I found slightly tricky - without a thermometer I wasn't entirely sure when (or indeed if) we'd hit 104C to ensure the perfect set - and actually despite trying more than once we never quite got there and the end result was a little runny.

But hey - at least it looked pretty...


So how did it taste? Because we used the puree rather than fresh fruit the end result was very smooth so if you like your jam with lumps in this wouldn't be for you. As we tend to buy the St Dalfour jams with no added sugar I also found this pretty sweet - but it has to be said that none of the recipients had any complaints about either taste or texture - and all were delighted with their homemade gift.

As for small girl...she loved it too and said that it perked up a slice of wheat-free toast no end. 


Note - when I reported the setting problems back to Lakeland they sent me a thermospatula to try. I haven't had a chance to make jam again yet but am pretty sure this will make a real difference as without it (or a regular jam thermometer) it's always going to be guess work when it comes to hitting the crucial setting point. I have tried it out on other things though and it's very easy to use. 

I'm working up to a spot of chocolate tempering with it next (because I'm completely slightly obsessed with the Great British Bake Off and they did it on there). Although it could well be that I have ideas above my station. 

Maybe I'll just go buy a bar of Dairy Milk instead.


Wednesday, 28 November 2012

Hard done by

"Sometimes I feel like a slave in this place. It's not enough you want me to do everything around the house but now you treat me like a slave. I have to do all the cooking, all the cleaning - everything and it's not on."

My 4 year-old daughter on being asked to pick up her tiara from the living room floor.

Thursday, 15 November 2012

Getting published: tips from the experts

Earlier this year I posted about whether or not you need an agent. Now, following the Mumsnet Blogfest, here are some other useful things to bear in mind if you want to get published.

From the publicist

1) Really research your market. What makes you different from the competition? Know your USP.

2) Make sure you can summarise your sales pitch in a few lines.

3) Blogs (per se) don't make books - you need to have a narrative arc, a beginning, middle and end and take the reader on a journey.

4) Build up your twitter/facebook following and get as much data capture as you can via your blog with sign-ups as that will really appeal to marketing departments.

Looking slightly scary on the Getting Published panel at Blogfest.
(But at least I'd remembered to brush my hair) 
From the editor

1) Putting together a decent proposal is the key to getting interest from publishers/agents. Publishers get so many of them that yours has to be as slick as possible.

2) Make sure your proposal includes information on how your platform and profile and how you will help promote your book.

3) Make sure you can explain what singles your book out from everyone else's.

4) (as per previous post) Many of the large publishers no longer really accept unsolicited manuscripts so it's best to get an agent on board as a starting point.

5) A full chapter breakdown/synopsis are also important, as is sample writing. In fiction you need to supply more sample writing than in non-fiction.

From the author (Bestselling YA writer Keren David)

1)  Develop a very thick skin about rejection. Don't take it personally and don't be too precious.

2) If you get the chance, work with an agent and an editor to make your book the best that it can be.

3) In fiction be wary of the adage 'write what you know' - it can make it harder not easier.

Image by Anna Gordon

Friday, 9 November 2012

Sun, sea...and small children

Our family holidays usually look a bit like this.



Or this.


Or this.


In fact even before the arrival of small girl the places we chose to go to were not so very different. Generally green, quiet, perhaps with the odd city break thrown in too. Usually jumpers and more often than not cagoules and wellies too.

Life in London often seems so full on. Small wonder that for precious time away together we like to find a little corner of quiet away from...well, away from pretty much everything and everyone.

And so we've never done "all inclusive": we tend to pick self-catering - not just because it's so easy with kids but also because we want to spend our time off together and not with loads of strangers. Call us anti social old gits...and you won't be far off the mark.

I haven't even done a package holiday since I was 19, those long ago days when £100 or so would get you not one but two weeks on a Greek island (albeit in a half built hotel in the middle of nowhere - ah sweet (ish) memories...)

Then there's the fact that our family is possibly the palest family on record. Baring my whiter-than-white legs in summer is not something I do lightly. Mr Cazroz is no sun worshipper, we both wilt in the heat and we've always worried about taking a littlie somewhere really warm.

Which is why we usually end up in Scotland.

But then, through work, small girl and I were invited to spend a few days in St Lucia with Virgin. I jumped at the chance (of course!) but then started to panic about how we'd cope on an all-inclusive (eek) package trip (gulp) to a very hot resort (agh) filled with hundreds and hundreds of other holiday makers (nooooo). And bare legs (weep).

And that all before I'd even started thinking about the small matter of the long haul flights.

We didn't take the girl anywhere near a plane until she was two - and then only on flights to France and Scotland (both places in my 'no-more-than-90-minutes-in-the-air' demarcation zone) We did take her to New York a year ago, to be flower girl at my brother's wedding, but I admit that most (ok, all) of the hands-on stuff during the flight fell to the Mr (loves flying) rather than me (hates every second)

So...eight and a half whole hours with just me and child. It would be fair to say I was bricking it wasn't looking forward to it in the slightest.

But *major revelation* do you know something?  It was absolutely fine. More than fine. The plane was comfortable. We ate (ice cream!) We drank (apple juice!) And we were very merry. I even got to watch two entire films - albeit pausing each one an average of 37 times to restart Madagascar/Charlie and Lola, retrieve felt tips from under the seats and furnish small child with an assortment of snacks and drawing materials.

The weather was roasting hot. But do you know - that was absolutely fine as well. After all, the rooms were air conditioned. The swimming pool was huge. And those all-inclusive cold drinks kept coming before anyone even had the chance to say "I'm a bit thirsty".

Yes - there were loads of other people, but they were getting on with their holidays just as we were getting on with ours. Yes - my pallor was a source of concern - but some strategic action with a sarong and a large straw hat meant that not too many others were blinded by the glare. Yes - there were loads of things going on - but it turns out that no one makes you do any of them. You don't have to send your kids to kids club if you don't want to. You don't have to do anything - including cooking, cleaning, shopping... It's a whole new world.

Small girl - who hadn't seen the sea since she was 15 months old and had never dipped so much as a toe in a wave - couldn't get enough of it and loved every second of our trip.


And I have realised that the world actually is our oyster (budget permitting!) - and that maybe preconceptions are not all they're cracked up to be. Now where's that brochure...


You can find more details of Virgin's flights to and holidays in St Lucia here and here.

Friday, 26 October 2012

How My Daughter Sees Me

I was just chuckling at the pictures Mostly Yummy's small fry had produced of their mother when my own 4 year-old came into the room with her latest portrait...of me.


I have checked in the mirror and I don't in fact have a large M on the top of my head (actually I'm told it's a crown - I don't have one of those either). The hair is pretty bang on. Although it's clear darling daughter thinks I use a lot of mascara (when in fact the last time I remembered to use any at all was some time in the 1980s)

I quite like the frock tho. Perhaps my new look for winter?

Check out some other budding Picassos on Sticky Fingers

Friday, 12 October 2012

The one where I cry a lot

Small girl and I seem to be going through a bit of a love in at the moment. It's not that I don't look at her every single day with a sense of wonderment that this child is actually mine. But right now... Maybe she has a sixth sense that I'm worrying about a family illness, perhaps it's just one of those things. Either way I'm loving all the extra hugs and declarations of love.

This morning:

"Mummy, I hope you know how special you are. I love you a hundred and a million and eighty two. I'll even love you when you're 35."

(Who's going to tell her....?)

"You know mum, I'll even love you when you're under one of those stones. I'll find the one that says 'Cari Rosen' and I'll know it's special because you're there."

Now, how to explain to her why I'm bawling like a baby?

Friday, 21 September 2012

My mother was right

Sarcasm clearly is the lowest form of wit.





Thursday, 20 September 2012

Big school

I was fine til she put the uniform on.

I got through yesterday and saying goodbye to nursery (not sure how - but I did, nonetheless). I managed to lay out the uniform, check everything was labelled, get the book bag and the PE kit ready without so much as a sniffle.

Ready for the big day
This morning I managed the shower/teeth/breakfast routine without a hitch. Bounced her into her tights (oh how I dread the day when she is too big for me to do that) - and then... well then it all got a bit real.

First the polo shirt. The age 3-4 looked great in the shop. So naturally I bought the 5-6. Yes, it's almost down to her knees - but (at the risk of sounding like my mother), it will last.

Then the tunic (roomy) and last the cardi (plenty of growth). And there she stood - not a baby any more but a big school girl. I smiled. Of course I smiled. But there were also tears (all mine) which, thankfully, I managed to hide.

And so we walked up to school with Daddy too. We met a couple of people we know well. And a few more that we will get to know well as our children are in the same class. I managed to mutter to a close friend "don't be nice to me whatever you do" - and suddenly I was crying again.

Curse those tears - but try as I might, tears there were aplenty. I had had the foresight to bring tissues. I did not have the foresight to wear dark glasses. Lesson learned.

The lovely Reception teacher didn't comment on my red eyes - for which I am grateful. Small girl happily bounced in, found her peg, hung up her stuff and started to explore. A mum whose daughter started last week (staggered intake) who I've had email conversations with but never met came over to say hello...and that was it. One minute just about holding it together. The next howling on the shoulder of a stranger. Who was absolutely lovely. Which made it worse.

I'm used to leaving small girl at nursery on the days that I work so I'm not really sure why today has been so hard. Perhaps because it's the biggest milestone in her life so far. Perhaps because she's only 4 and although she is more than ready for "big" school it feels like such a huge step for such a little girl. Maybe because she's my baby - and I'm really going to miss her, especially on the days I'm not at work.

Today I was rescued by a friend who took me home for a cuppa and a croissant and made me feel much better. Although (despite a to-do list as long as both my arms) since I got home I have done nothing but clock watch until it's time to go and pick her up again.

This new found freedom is harder to come to terms with than I'd ever imagined. But something tells me that by this time next week I may be making the most of every minute.

Sunday, 16 September 2012

Sunday, 2 September 2012

Silent Sunday (2 Sept)

My week. One photo, no words.


Wednesday, 15 August 2012

London 2012 (part 2 - a volunteer's story)

Long (ish) ago - must be a couple of years at least - when I saw that they were looking for volunteers to help out at London 2012 I applied without thinking. I'd helped out at Euro 96 at Wembley - and the chance to be part of the biggest sporting event on the planet was something I leapt at in an instant.  Conveniently ignoring logistical issues such as work and childcare I sent off my form and waited to hear. Many months, one interview and lots of training later and I was ready to go.


Things I learned before the Games:

1)  That beige polyester slacks are extremely unforgiving.
2) An awful lot about gymnastics, given the bulk of my time was to be spent at the North Greenwich Arena (aka The O2 - or, if you are as slow to adapt to change as I am, the Dome) with a lot of extremely bendy and talented athletes.

With a media background it made sense to be doing a media role - in my case working with the Olympic News Service to get quotes from the gymnasts after their performances.


Nerve-wracking? Without a doubt, especially when many didn't speak English so it meant working with translators to get what we needed in the short time we had. There were plenty of occasions when I rued not keeping up my Russian - though at least I managed greetings and thank yous (in Italian, Japanese and Hebrew too...I'm a regular polyglot as long as you require nothing more than hello, goodbye, thank you and the numbers 1-10)


Highlights? Where do I start?! Walking out in my uniform every day and feeling so, so proud to be a part of it all. Getting to see amazing action that I would never have had the privilege of seeing otherwise.


Learning about gymnastics - artistic and rhythmic - and trampolining. Meeting fantastic people - from the team I worked with...


...to medallists galore including Gaby Douglas (USA - gold in team and individual all-around), Beth Tweddle and Dmitry Ushakov (Russia - silver in trampoline). And oh the excitement of being only centimetres from that silver medal as he talked about his performance.

My uniform marked me out as a games maker wherever I was - be it at the arena, or en route on the tube or in the street. I had my photo taken with Brazilian football fans who wanted a souvenir of their trip (bless - trousers and all)...

...directed countless people on the underground and found myself answering all manner of queries.

(My favourite was at a suburban bus stop when an 80-something woman beckoned me over...then asked me could I find out what time the boxing started.)

The infectious enthusiasm of everyone from toddlers to pensioners was one of the best things of all.

But now my stint is over, my uniform laundered and stored away. I'm missing all of it (yes, even the slacks).

It was hard work, often tiring, sometimes stressful. It meant using up most of my holiday and begging countless favours from friends and family to look after small girl ("Oh mummy, are you Olympic-ing again?")

But was it worth it? Without a doubt. It was an honour and a privilege to be part of it - and I'd do the whole thing again in a heartbeat.



Sunday, 12 August 2012

London 2012 (part 1 - a spectator's view)

And so, bar the rest of the after show party, it's all over. I'm gutted.

There were lots of funny looks when we announced that this year we were having an Olympics staycation.

Not so many funny looks now.

Two amazing weeks. Watching history being made - on the telly and in the stadium. Hey, the sun even shone. I'll take that over a fortnight on a beach any day.

But this is only part of what the Olympics has been for me. As a volunteer (aka gamesmaker) I got to be part of it all as well - an incredible experience that will stay with me forever. That, however, is another story (to be told in part 2)

But first my highlights as a spectator:

First up watching Tom Daley in the synchronised 10m diving. He may have just been pipped to a medal but the crowd were amazing.


Just being in the Olympic Park was brilliant too. Superb organisation. Brilliant atmosphere. Every flag you can imagine with Union Jacks everywhere you looked. Some more, er, prominent than others.


The luck - oh the luck - of finding three £20 tickets on the Olympic website just a week before the Games opened and being able to take our girl to see the swimming heats. 


Small girl: (excitedly on the phone to my mum that night) "I went to watch the swimming at the Olympics."

Grandma: How exciting - where was it?

Small girl: Next to the toilets

Nonetheless, I think it's safe to say the occasion left its mark. When I found her howling at 3 o' clock this morning, it was apparently because "I can't decide if I'm going to be an Olympic swimmer or an Olympic gymnast when I grow up."


And it got even better. Lucky husband had got athletics tickets in the first ballot and to say he'd picked a good night is possibly something of an understatement.

I'd dressed the part...

...which was just as well because first we got this:


And then, rather unexpectedly, this:


And then the joy of cheering the magnificent Mo Farrah to victory in the 10,000m. 


Despite a sore throat from yelling and a nasty case of flag waver's shoulder it truly was a Super Saturday. Three gold medals for Team GB in 44 minutes and I was there. 

Even if I still can't quite believe it.



Sunday, 5 August 2012

Silent Sunday (5th August)

One photo. Truly no words needed : )


Sunday, 8 July 2012

Silent Sunday (8th July)

My silent Sunday. One photo. No words.


Sunday, 24 June 2012

Getting published: do you need an agent?

Following my Britmums Live session 'The Path To Getting Published' here - as promised - is a summary of my 'bit' on whether you should (or shouldn't) have an agent.

I have friends who have been published without an agent - some by choice, others simply because they couldn't find one to take them on. My own view is that having an agent is absolutely invaluable and these are just some of the reasons why:

1) (From my editor) "Many of the large publishers no longer really accept unsolicited books, so it's best to get an agent on board as a starting point."

2) Even if a publisher does accept unsolicited manuscripts unless you are already an established name you're likely to end up at the bottom of a large slush pile. Agents have established relationships with those publishers so can make sure your magnum opus ends up on the right person's desk.

3) (Particularly relevant for non fiction where you don't have to have completed your book before approaching publishers) You can have the best idea in the world but if you don't sell it the right way chances are it will go nowhere. An agent knows how you should best present it and can advise accordingly.

4) How much time a particular agent can offer for advice/guidance will vary enormously - but they can be brilliant sounding boards once you have established a working relationship.

5) Agents will be honest with you - with your best interests at heart as well as their own. They will tell you if it's worth you carrying on with something or not. It may hurt to bin your precious 'baby' - but far better than spending more time and effort on a book that's never going to work.

6) Agents know who is looking for what and, therefore, the right person/people to send your book or proposal to. If you're going it alone - particularly as a first timer - you could spend months working your way through lists of publishers and still not get it right. That's a lot of time and effort that could be used far more profitably elsewhere.

7) You've got a deal. Hurrah! All the hard work has paid off and you can rest on your laurels and bask in the glory of knowing you're going to be a published author... Or can you? Actually no - but that's another post, another time (soon). Once you reach the contract stage your agent will again come into his/her own. There is WAY more to this part than I had imagined. It's not just a matter of signing on the dotted line. There are advances to be agreed, pages and pages of fiddly bits about royalties and percentages and territories. Such a relief to be able to leave that side to someone who really knows what they are doing.

8) If there is ever an issue with your publisher (and I hasten to add that there were none with mine!) it's great to have a third party to play 'bad cop' without you having to damage the relationships you have worked so hard to build. This also leaves you free to do the bit that everyone actually wants you to do (ie finish the book)

9) Agents will deal with/chase up (etc) all payments from your publisher etc. This is more useful that I had realised at the outset. Frankly my first royalties statement could have been written in hieroglyphics for all the sense it made to me. One quick email to my agent and it all made perfect (well, ish) sense.

10) The publishing world is changing and it's great to have someone to steer you through those changes eg: new opportunities in the digisphere.

And three final tips:

1) Make sure you LIKE your agent. In the words of my own, "a successful relationship is dependent on mutual enthusiasm." I can't emphasise this enough. Don't forget - the very point of having an agent is that you have someone who is batting for YOU. If you don't get on there is no way either of you will get the best from your working arrangement.

2) Don't pay an agent up front. Remember all that advice about modelling agencies? The ones that ask you to pay for photos and portfolios before they take you on? Just as the advice for that is "don't" (a reputable agency will do all that for you), so with literary agents it's best to avoid those who charge reading fees or (to quote my agent again) "any other sort of fee - including fees if they are unsuccessful in placing your work."

3) Agents charge a commission of between 10 and 15% of earnings on deals done in the UK and 20% on international deals. Don't panic when you first sign that contract - it seems like you are giving them an awful lot (hey - I'm the one doing all the hard work by writing the darned book). But actually when you figure the time and effort they are investing in you and your work you are getting an absolute bargain. Definitely something to remember.

I'm also (slightly against my better judgement) attaching the link to the Google Hangout we did after our session. Before you click on it can I reassure you that my hips are not actually the strange shape that they appear to be - it's an illusion caused by trousers and chair being the same colour. Honest... *whimpers*


Sunday, 27 May 2012

Sunday, 20 May 2012

Wednesday, 16 May 2012

Love ice cream - who hid summer?

It is no secret that I am in love with Lakeland and enjoy nothing more* of an evening than poring over the latest catalogue (*this may not be strictly true but nonetheless my ooh-ing and aah-ing as I browse has led my husband to dub their offerings as kitchen porn of the highest order)

My current must-have wish list stands at 79 items and would necessitate a large bank loan and a kitchen extension (have you seen the mini ice cream sandwich makers??? How have I coped without a pineapple slicer and wedger? Are the flowerpot cake cases not a work of genius?)

So I jumped at the chance to have a go with the Lakeland Ice Cream Maker. Despite my lengthy and fruitless quest for peanut butter ice cream this side of the Atlantic, I had never been tempted to try an ice cream maker before because they generally seem to be very big and very expensive. But this is neat and easy to store - and at under £40 won't break the bank - so it was definitely worth a go.

The verdict? Very easy to use. Very quick. Fun to do with small child. Delicious results.

Now if the sun could just make even the briefest of appearances I will have the perfect excuse to carry on churning.

Thursday, 12 April 2012

Life lessons #372

What I have mainly learned this week is that if, in the wee small hours, a small child crawls into your bed and then shortly afterwards says "I think I'm going to be sick", do NOT run all the way downstairs, turn off the alarm, unlock the kitchen door and rifle around in several cupboards looking for a large bowl.

Grabbing the bin RIGHT NEXT TO THE BED will save you a lot of washing. #sigh

Sunday, 19 February 2012

Tuesday, 7 February 2012

Every little (irritation) helps.

It is no secret that I spend half of my life in Tesco.

As with any long-standing relationship we have our ups and downs: it pisses me off. I sulk a bit. It says one thing and does another so I vow never to return. Then I remember that it’s practically in my front garden and so very, very handy so I swallow my pride and go crawling back.

But this time the fall-out may just be a bridge too far.

On the one hand what is at issue is a meagre £1.40. On the other there are principles at stake.

It’s a simple tale of every day shopping: a wintry day. An extremely nifty snow shovel for a bargain £7.95. And a query about the total on my receipt.

The woman on the checkout was quite firm when I asked why the ‘2 for £5’ promotion hadn’t actually been applied. “You should have told me before I put it through the till” she said, putting paid to my assumption that the enormous red stickers on the products were in themselves indicative of the offer.

“It’s gone through now”, she added. “You should have pointed it out to me before you paid.” Now this may have been tricky given that she had only handed me my receipt after I had paid (as I believe is the tradition, it being a receipt of payment) so it was off to customer services to sort it out.


“Oh no” said the woman at customer services. “These are completely different products. You have to buy two the same.”

I asserted that given that they were of the same beast, one cooked and one uncooked, they weren’t completely different. And more to the point it was somewhat misleading for each packet to be emblazoned with an identical “ANY 2 for £5” logo.

“Yes”, she replied. “Any two - as long as they are exactly the same.”

Trouble is that’s not really ANY two is it? ‘2 for £5’ may well lead one to presuppose that the products do indeed have to be the same but ‘ANY two’ on products of a very similar nature does make one think that ‘any’ is indeed the operative word.

This is made all the more confusing that on the ‘any 3 for £10’ promotion ‘any’ does indeed mean ‘any’.


So raw salmon fillets, cooked salmon fillets and smoked salmon sporting identical offer stickers are all accepted as part of the deal even though they are clearly not 'exactly the same' in any way whatsoever.

Now I may use words to make a living, but that’s not to say I am a world expert in either semantics or trades descriptions. So I checked the dictionary to make sure I wasn’t barking entirely up the wrong tree.

an·y [en-ee]
adjective
1. one, a, an, or some; one or more without specification or identification
2. whatever or whichever it may be.
3. every; all

I rest my case.

So my question is this…do ‘any’ people at Tesco care at all about the fact that they are misleading customers by letting ‘any’ mean ‘any’ on some things but not others? Indeed, why trumpet the word ‘any’ at all when it’s clearly untrue? If the products need to be identical then why not simply drop it? If they don’t then can they not at least clarify things for those of us now bewildered by this will-they, won’t-they scenario?

I do accept that ‘any 2’ is far easier to fit on a small sticker than ‘we reserve the right to decide what is included in this promotion even though it may be completely unclear and misleading to the customer”

But I’m still pissed off.

Note:

I asked Tesco to comment and this was their response:

"The "any" in both offers refers to the range, rather than the product. So, in this instance, there will be a cooked range and a raw range on promotion. We are sorry if the shelf labelling does not make this clear and the customer service did not meet the high standards you expect from Tesco."

Another note:

No. still confused I'm afraid. You see the cooked salmon and raw salmon still count as part of the same offer. The smoked salmon - which comes from a different range altogether (Tesco finest) still counts (and, if we are going to be pedantic, is technically neither raw nor cooked)

Clearly all too complex for my befuddled brain. And clearly different stickers for different offers would make it waaaay too simple...

Sunday, 22 January 2012

Friday, 20 January 2012

Difficult conversations...

En route to celebrate mother-in-law's birthday:

3yo: How old is grandma?
Me: 76
3yo: Wow that's really old...so will she be going to live with god in heaven soon then?
Me: Um...well I hope not. Possibly best not to ask her though
3yo: So how do you get to heaven and the stars?
Me: Um...magic?
3yo: Not a plane or a ladder then?
Me: Probably not
3yo: So how old is god anyway?
Me: Um...
3yo: And can I watch Mickey Mouse Clubhouse tomorrow?

Sunday, 15 January 2012