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Life on the Ground Floor

The novelty of not having to walk up a narrow flight of stairs to get to our front door has certainly not worn off. Taking the rubbish out is an absolute pleasure. I just go out the front door and there are my bins. No stairs to navigate, no dark alleyways to be scared of. My bike now lives in the garden rather than our hallway, and although I miss seeing it as I eat my dinner, it is nice to have a little extra space.

Adlai has now spent a week in his own room and he seems to be enjoying his newfound freedom. This week he has mostly been celebrating by pooping though all the clothes he owns. Seriously, I think he’s on for some kind of record. People tell me it’s because he’s teething and although this seems illogical I’m assured it’s the truth. On one occasion this week I had to run into Matalan for an emergency new outfit as Faith and a naked Adlai waited in the car. He had pooped though all the outfits we had for him and we were several miles from home. Adlai seemed to enjoy the experience rather more than Faith and I, and by the time we made it home that outfit too had succumbed to the might of the teething ‘sharts’.

This week, too, Faith and I truly grew up. In our flat a washing machine was included, but in our new house we needed to buy our own.

After several hours of energy efficiency research, we picked the machine for us. It’s a beauty. As I handed over the cash I had a momentary realisation that I could buy a seriously nice iPod for the same amount of money. But iPods don’t get poo stains out of onesies.

The grownup in me won out, and after plumbing everything in, the washing began.  Just in time, too, because the closeness of the bins was tempting me to write off most of Adlai’s wardrobe.

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