It's been that kind of a fortnight.
Notable events from the last two weeks have included: playing air hockey for all of ten minutes, buying a new lunchbox, and washing the cushion covers. Eldest went ice-skating, but we didn't.
It snowed but didn't settle. We finally got the central heating mended. We have a brand new ceramic hob propped up in a box in a corner of the living room. Because ringing the tradesman is just another job that continually didn't get done.
Until 3.15pm today, I had nothing to offer but 'peh'. I picked Littlest up from school and, as usual, asked what had been the most special part of the day. (Usually the question is ignored, and I have to deflect a string of demands to buy things from shops and then endure a diva strop.)
But not today. Today, her friend had taught her to 'listen to the wind'.
Here's what you do. You run into the wind with your eyes closed, and you listen. To her friend, it sounds like 'wishywishywishy', but to Littlest, it's more 'phew, phew'. We don't know what it means. We don't speak wind language.
But the clouds, apparently, do.
(If you haven't already done so, do visit The Compound Word Project, if only to look at the pretty pictures and then wail and weep about how your brain doesn't even WORK.)