Now it's Sunday and I am reading the papers in my favourite room listening to you playing with your Sylvanian Families in the lounge and doing all of their voices. It's a calming place for me. Although the news is not very calm. Let's hope the political storm brewing in Ukraine and Russia blows away as quickly as it arose. My peaceful Sunday is so at odds with what I am reading about and I wonder how you ever go from pushing a toy platypus around in the basket of your Sylvanian badger's bicycle to ordering submarines and battleships to the brink of war. 
A welcome distraction from the world's political unrest.
We then got ready to go out. "Our feet are not the same size Mummy", you exclaimed. I replied, "no sweetie, yours are three and mine are thirty seven. You responded with, "one day when I am bigger like you, my feet will be thirty seven too. Will they Mummy?"
So, as I caught up with the grave and escalating situation in Crimea, you interrupted to ask if I could help you to "put this police outfit on my baby dormouse please mummy?"
We had a lovely lunch with Wilbur, Monty and their gorgeous mummies. You loved being the biggest and therefore "in charge" and you also loved that the babies mummies did, indeed, love your red tights as you'd hoped they would when we chose them this morning.
"Those who can win a war well can rarely make a good peace and those who could make a good peace would never have won the war." ~ Winston Churchill
