Half term took us to the in-laws, for a day of two of bingeing on wine, Mr Coffee's childhood Lego, and gorgeous food that had been cooked by someone else.
Eventually we tore ourselves from the sofa and, after one of those half-hearted mopes around Ikea that never should have happened, we ventured out to a gallery.
I don't adore David Hockney. I'll admit it. But a huge dressing up box, a spinning wheel, a roomful of stories and lots of space sent the Lattes into an imaginative frenzy which allowed us time to think. We were allowed to look at the pictures and flick through the storybooks, pausing only to read letters that the Lattes had composed to the Fairy Tale Council complaining about how boring being a princess was and requesting fresh supplies of handsome men.
For anyone who is interested, Hockney's images for Rapunzel can be found amongst these. I particularly liked the picture of Rapunzel's mother watching the witch's zen-like vegetable garden from a tower of her very own.
I love reading about fairy tales, partly because of how open they are to wild interpretations - are they sexual metaphors full of deep cauldrons and sharp objects? Or celebrations of the solar cycle? Another great thing about them is that often they make very little sense whatsoever.
I've mentioned Disney's new Tangled film before now, and though there is absolutely no love lost between me and Disney, I'm rather relieved that they gave the wicked witch a better reason to lock a child in a tower than that bonkers plot about a father-to-be stealing some lettuces. Magic hair that makes you young? You've got to give it to them, that's a good reason. Even bearing in mind my insatiable desire for lemonade whilst pregnant, I find it very hard to believe that a woman might die from being denied a salad.
(Besides, even the Grimm brothers rewrote their own stories. How many people now tell the version where the witch discovers Rapunzel has been having it away with a handsome prince because her clothes are getting tight?)
And I bought a new mug in the gallery shop. To remind me that sometimes when you're low, you shouldn't look at Swedish lamps that you don't even want. You should try to use your imagination.