A few minutes ago it was lovely and serene in my house. Both boys were happily playing independantly.
Then all hell errupted. The found each other. B is now laying on the floor chucking one like a 2 year old with kicking and fist thumping.
H is yelling like a possessed banchee (is that how you spell it).
It's day one of the holidays. Two more weeks to go. I wonder who will be more ready for school to go back - me or them?
The occassional considerations of a mum of two rat bag boys and wife to the builder man amidst the fog that is PTSD
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