Ruby used to ask for the telly to be turned off as she was more interested in making something (the loo roll tubes I’ve saved to plant beans in often disappear to be transformed by copious amounts of cellotape into strange creatures) but things change and I’d started feeling guilty at my teatime reliance on cbeebies. Much as she often loves cooking, when we’re both slightly frazzled at the end of the day, it’s so easy to switch the telly on and get on with making the dinner on my own.  But on lovely evenings when there’s play to be had outside, I feel such a terrible Mum to have encouraged my daughter onto the sofa.

When we got the pigs I was so pleased with Ruby’s interest in them. We often gave them their early tea together before I needed to get ours and Ruby would stay outside, picking clumps of grass and dandelions for them. Or she’d pull her outside chair up close to them and oink, claiming an ability to communicate in pig language. I could happily nip between the kitchen and garden, cooking and gathering any salad and herbs from outside, enjoying the odd piggy update from Ruby. How happy I was. And how quickly the novelty passed. Continue reading →