Poor Daddy stubbed his toe on the skirting board whilst playing with Jocey last weekend. The toe then proceeded to swell and turn black and blue.
It was obviously broken so I gave Jase a bit of sympathy, strapped it up and instructed him to take painkillers. He hobbled around for a few days but now it's definitely improved.
I also sustained my own ouch, courtesy of Lauren. We had a conversation on Tuesday along these lines:
Lauren: "Mummy, I'm three!"
Mummy: "Yes that's right, Lauren. How old is Jocey?"
Mummy: "Yes, clever girl! How old is Mummy?"
Lauren: "Don't know."
Mummy: "Aah, Mummy is thirty-five."
Lauren (after long pause): "Forty-five?"
Mummy: "No, thirty-five!"
Lauren (quite firmly): "Forty-five."