My son's Playstation broke last week. You could be forgiven for thinking he had lost a limb with the way he reacted. Unable to cope with a miserable 18 year old for the next 6 months, I dipped into the rainy day fund and bought him a new one. It arrived today and he is now quite happy to be quarantined in his room for the next few months (only resurfacing for food). Poppy asked to do some work this morning so home learning commenced again, having fallen off the bandwagon for a while now. I was then treated to a fashion show in the garden, where I was forced to appalled and whoop as she strutted her way down the path in a variety of princess dressing-up costumes. Her finale was Wonder Woman and she has remained in it all day. I'm not opposed to it though as the washing basket seems to be forever full at the moment. We are at home all day, how are we managing to get through so many outfits?! Spent half an hour on the trampoline with Poppy...still aching from it now.
It's now been over a week. Poppy returned home from her dad's house (dressed as a mermaid) with bags of toys (because she obviously doesn't have enough here) and a Wendy house-castle thing, because there isn't enough shit in the dining room already. She has also now claimed the space under the stairs in the downstairs hallway and it resembles a crèche for dolls-a highchair, bouncer, pushchair, pram and car seat for her (many) babies. She, and her toys, are slowly taking over the house. (Contemplate if now is a good time to make-over the shed and turn it into a playhouse for her and her ever growing collection of baby paraphernalia. *Must tell her dad to stop sending her home with more things*) Cohabiting has sadly come to an end as the boyfriend needs to go be with his family and the reality of the virus has become very close to home. In order to keep the children safe, we won't be seeing each other for a while now.