It’s late. Miss G is having a sleepover party as the Festival of 12 draws to a close as of tomorrow morning.
The girls are bunkered down in the lounge room. The visiting lad, a little brother of one and a good friend of T’s, cracked and requested to go home. The little one had a big case of worries. He’d been here since 6pm, so much fun and food and rotgut.
I lay in with T and had a good snuggle and chat to reassure him that it was all ok. He’s decided he doesn’t want a sleepover party for his own birthday this year. A bold decision to make six weeks in advance. I think it’s a good one really.
The muttering is continuing in the lounge room. I think I will leave them to it entirely very soon.
Turners Beach is a much more relaxing thought!