Chickened out

It’s a bit sad (as in pathetic) how much I’m enjoying the supermarket. Today’s highlight: chatting to the Changeling’s mother (aka my neighbour). After hazily recognising each other from the almost-reversing-over-her-toddler-in-the-driveway incident last week, we struck up a conversation in the fruit and veg department. She seems very nice. Her name is Georgie (must remember: Georgie, Georgie, Georgie). […]

Not neighbourly

Husband and I have been speculating about whether the Sprog next door is a changeling. It NEVER grows up – it’s a permanent baby. It’s all squishy and puggle-like and it’s been doing that in-the-middle-of-the-night crying thing FOREVER. Very spooky. Well, it was until I saw the mother this afternoon, carrying a baby while a […]