It was one of my favourite books, along with The Shrinking of Treehorn (which I also am the proud owner of; quite possibly one of the weirdest, most wonderful children's stories). My old teacher Mrs Alvarez (god rest her soul, for she passed away several years back) read it to us with great gusto.
I find Mrs Lather's Laundry a gorgeous read, the illustrations are attractive and the fact I picked this up for 10p makes me a very happy peep. The kids keep asking me to read it to them at bedtime.
I keep spotting new cherry tree shops that I haven't discovered before. But now the Prince (who is well aware that his mother would like to spend a good few moments browsing every single section) has decided to cry loudly and shriek at the top of his voice so that I leave the building immediately. Sometimes I call his bluff and ignore it, but the high pitched, ear piercing yelps make everyone in the shop look at him with a shudder.
So I am leaving empty handed more often than not. It's painful. Perhaps I should rename my blog Sod All from the Cherry Tree - until he starts pre-school anyway! But I shall not give up, it's not in my nature.
Speaking of the Prince, I was sorting out the washing the other morning and realised he had gone very quiet so I went to check on him. And found him like this:
HOW can anyone go into a deep sleep like this?! Maybe it's because I possess a well-padded chest which would get in the way from curling up in this manner, that I can't fathom it.
He's been hilarious this week:
Oh, and we found out the that Princess got into arguably the best school in the area and the Prince got into the preschool of choice too, both only a short walk away which will be bliss in the autumn.
And we found a broken dolly in the road which I think bothered me more than the kids. We brought her home and are hoping to fix her in some way. Although I can't sew (at all, can barely thread a needle), so it will be a challenge for me. I couldn't leave her there. I've named her Rita. The kids hate the name.
|Like the doll from Toy Story|
|She spooks me a little|
|Her best Blair Witch Project impression|
|Spot the fake|
|This was a random gift from an old neighbour. |
The Prince was already crying by the way, the nun doll just didn't help matters
And on that note, I ought to go and get ready. It's 10am, no one is dressed and I have chores coming out of my ears.
See you later, dolls.