The boy got a fright early one evening, when he went into The Little Madam's bedroom to put her down for the night. Protuding freakishly from the ceiling was a wavy, translucent vine. He fetched a ladder and cut it off, but really this had opened up a nice big can of juicy worms. And it had also probably solved the puzzle of why, every time I tried to switch the light on in TLM's room, the lighting fuse blew, forcing me to retrieve the Civil Defence shoebox from the storage cupboard and the fuse wire from our office.
It's funny how much growth can end up on one's house over the winter, without its inhabitants noticing. I really hadn't realised that one side of my house was almost completely over-grown in thick, woody vine. I certainly hadn't an inkling that it had crept into the roof cavity, looking for bits of electrical wiring to wreck.
There's a landscaping guy out there now, with his team, despite the rain and cold. They arrived minutes before I was going to put TLM down for her nap (relatively early at 11.30), armed with chainsaws and handsaws and dressed in shorts.
Do you think that a nap-avoiding 15 month-old who almost fell asleep on the way home from her swim class, but then got second wind and proceeded to empty out all her toy boxes, would be able to nap through the noise of chainsaws, thumping boots and trestle-assemblage? The answer, it seems, is yes.