Nye's parents are here, they're having a 3 week holiday. Apparently it's too hot in the south of France, something that really isn't a problem here (God bless Glasgow.) Once they'd settled into life with the girls, Nye and I buggered off to Brighton for a few days. It was bliss. We slept until 8am. Ate out for every meal, relishing the total silence and lack of food flying through the air. We hung out with friends, enjoying their lovely quiet squidgy children and handing them back when they started to need parenting. We walked for miles and miles, not needing to stop when it got to nap time (although a nap would have been nice, some of those days.) We looked at houses without worrying about Puke getting her head stuck in a cat flap or Widdle sneaking rat poison into her pocket. We watched the Olympics on the beach at sunset, not anxious that we were missing bedtime which might result in a total meltdown (it did actually, but mine. And my meltdowns are slightly less attention-grabbing than Ammie's). Most deliciously, it gave us 5 days to really, really miss our children. Coming home to the little monsters has been such sweet relief. I love those kids.