Our days have some sort of rhythm here at the Burrow, I’m not always sure if it is a slow steady rhythm or a more panicked staccato, probably its both, on any given day. It is certainly hard to capture. Although we all try in out own way. My oldest has recently discovered my blog and has enjoyed reading it outloud to all of us, randomly not in chronological order, or any kind of order….just out-loud Giggling all the way to the bank as it were. He has begun working on his version of a blog, the old fashion kind. He calls it a newspaper. It is on paper, and uses pencils, strange I know. It catalogues our days in picture form. He apparently does a lot of time travel. (When of course, he is not studying).
His brother spends a lot of time playing. Naturally. Or blowing things up, I’m not sure what is happening here.
Dad makes dinner. This is of course true. Dad chops the dinner. Chop, chop chop.
Well you know, she is bit of screw off.
*Have we got news for you-Newsies