All Good

Saturdays are full of good intentions.

“First. I’m gonna have Breakfast. Black coffee and sautéed mushies on toast. Sitting down, in Peace; no rush. Then I’ll cut the grass, finish organising my wardrobe, rearrange the furniture in the hobby room and catch up on some reading. Oh, and run a half marathon.”

“Pah.” Doubtfully, my inner pessimist (I prefer calling her Ms Realistic) let out an aspirated exhalation.

Instead I said: “Don’t forget that we’re going out to That Party tonight. And that my roots are showing, again.” (Ms Realistic added “do the weekly shop” but I didn’t pay her any attention.)

At this point, Leon announced the beginning of the day by calling out “papá bye-bye” very loudly. It’s code for “Could you guys scramble out of bed and give me my bottle?! Please.” So we did.

And with that, Saturday was on The Roll.

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Husbands are full of good intentions.

The grass is still long and the hobby room still un-rearranged. But breakfast in the garden was sunny, the Party was epic, and my hair is a uniform shade of brown.

Today’s Monday. And Mondays, too, are full of good intentions.

Time for some Leon-snuggles.

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