up with the larks

Daddy sang bassThough, as I peer blearily through the window into an overcast Sunday, it seems the larks are, in fact, absent, leaving Lola and me to entertain ourselves. Lola is wandering around the house in her beige canvas trousers and red bear jumper (recently arrived from Nonna); I’m preparing her amaranth brekky (see post passim).

And now we’ve done brekky and are approaching nap time. Lola wolfed down her porridge — I think she must have put on that extra kilo, given the amount she’s been eating lately: three ‘solid’ meals a day, plus all the booby.

[big gap, during which the day happened, including a nice session on the swings at Stationers park]

And thus to bed, failing once again to complete an entry properly.