On becoming a twit

Well, I've been one for a while, but I have officially become a Twit-terer. I am LOVING it. Ok it's still a novelty which is bound to wear off soon (if not off me, off the wonderful people who follow me). But I'm having fun now. So if you too have embraced this brave new world of communicating, you can click on my shiny new button and 'follow'.

My husband the Beckham lookalike

OK, he's not. He's more like that chap who plays Bond these days (a brummie version, but lovely all the same) and every so often he displays some Steptoe tendancies (you should see our shed). But tonight in the bathroom whilst debating The Hairwash with the Toddler:

Toddler : No Hairwash Mummy?!
Me: Yes darling but it will be very quick and won't hurt
Toddler: No, no, no,nonononononononono. Pleeeeeeeeeeeeease mummy!
Me: (I just can't lie, she'll never trust me again). Come on, you can have some shampoo in your hands, look it makes bubbles - what fun. Now look at the sky.....

She noticed 'Mummy's book' (a copy of Star magazine, I'm so slummy mummy I don't even read quality crap, Hello is too highbrown, OK is too, well, Katie Price). On the back page is a picture of David Beckham. The toddler pointed at it and said 'DADDY?'. Full of excitement.

Well no darling, not quite. But yes Daddy does play football, he just doesn't earn 90 million pounds a week. But we love him all the same.

Today was a perfect day in this mummy's life. My children were little angels from heaven, him indoors was kind and considerate and bar the migraine that attacked me after lunch (when I got to have a sleep - there is a reason for these things), I was happy too. Maybe it's the optimism of a new year, a new house (hopefully) and the fact that Larkrise to Candelford is back on the telly.

Speaking of which, must go!

xxx