If your child has a propensity to remove their socks at soft play (presumably to get better leverage up those rubber padded stairs, rather than to get closer to all the muck at the bottom of the ball pit), dress them in some of those odd socks whose partners got eaten in the washing machine.(This happens to everyone, right?) I'd much rather have lost one pink sock and one flowery one than a decent pair of plain whites. "Where are your socks Brooke?" I asked her. "I don't know..." Guess who had to rummage amongst the coloured balls and climb up through the rope nets to look for them in vain? I did quite enjoy coming down the big tunnel slide though.
The whole point of this blog is so that Brooke and Taya can read it when they are older and see what sort of stuff they got up to. So I feel I should note for posterity that lately Brooke has started calling Taya Mrs Jeffers. I have no idea why. Taya doesn't seem to mind. She is far too busy cutting her fourth tooth (FINALLY getting them through!) and saying Mama quite a lot. Heart-melting.
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