I wish it was fiction, but this story is not a fairytale. Though Grimms' classics are almost as gruesome as the sight I saw when I walked into our lounge last night!

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My younger son is desperate to potty train to be like his big brother. Unfortunately,he is not quite two, and not old enough to do so successfully. So yesterday evening, after my husband had left for his work ball (of course!), he poohed on the lounge floor.

My elder son came to tell me (typical man!), helpfully complaining about the smell and retching (just like his daddy!) while I cleaned it up.

That done, I put my younger son to bed, only to find myself called back up five minutes later because he had been sick. He has a cold, and mucus and milk don't mix well. True to form, my elder son remained in front of the television, oblivious to it all, while I cleaned up mess. It would happen while my husband is out, wouldn't it?

Despite this we have a good morning, so far (we've been up since five so the day is already 90 minutes old). Today we are playing the waiting game. After the fiasco unsuccessfully trying to get a second hand wardrobe off freecycle upstairs, we have ordered a self-assembly tallboy for my younger son's bedroom.

More importantly, we are also still waiting for my nephew to arrive. And they talk about women keeping men waiting! I guess nature will sort it out when she's good and ready. It is frustrating though, as my sister has obstetric choleostasis (which can cause stillbirth) so they won't let her go over 39 weeks without inducing and the clock is ticking...