Each time I casually mention to the girls that it’s only (insert diminishing amount of time here) until we go on holiday both their eyes and mouths open wide.

Every single time.


To be honest, I’m cruising downhill at work today, just holding on for tomorrow and seven glorious days in Ibiza.

I guess that’s what part of what it means to be a child though: to live always in the present, seldom thinking about what just happened or what is about to happen.

Memory and anticipation turn children into adults.

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