Don't go too fast

Long long ago and yet not long at all, I was walking Fergus to preschool in London. Ferg’ sitting in his buggy was happily singing all that he could remember from the signature tune of Power Rangers - which was basically ‘Powah-Rangers-wight-speed wescue” on repeat. It was a beautiful day for July: Warm and sunny but not too hot. The sky was blue, flowers bloomed and it crossed my mind how lovely it would be to have another son, and how I'd call him Lachlan.

A few weeks later I discovered I was pregnant. Probably even had been on that walk.

Fergus’s pregnancy wasn’t without issue. But with Lachlan, everything was pretty much straight down the line. And when he first opened his tiny eyes to the world, his expression was, “Who’s in charge here, I'll think you'll find it's me.”

When Mark turned 40, we visited LA. Sitting in a house by the beach, Mark and I were discussing how we both thought it was time to change the way we were living. That maybe it was time to move out of London. But we didn’t know where we should go. We looked across at Lachlan and laughed. Sitting in his onesie, his wee podgy body full of contentment, clearly he thought California might work. Of course, he would have an opinion. Of course, he would.

So it’s been quite a weekend, here in Tweddley manor. There’s a new (to us) wee