Kids do say the funniest things

This afternoon Eliott took himself off to the sofa with a duvet and laid himself out like a couch potato. When I asked him what he was doing he said "sleep in mummy's bed". Oh, the shame.

Indeed, I have been spending rather a few mornings laying like a big, fat vegetable on my sofa. This comes from drinking too much demon booze. Last night I found myself singing/shouting songs from Grease in a friend's car at 1.30am after an innocent sounding Usborn book party descended into white wine-fuelled chaos and singing/shouting Take That songs in the hostess's living room. It's not good, not at my age (or any age, come to think of it).

So I might impose a ban on alcohol now until at least December 7th when the Christmas parties start rolling in. Oh God I can't face it*.

Meanwhile my house is being taken over by superheroes. Usually when dads look after their kids for the day they go to the park or play football. Matt spent the afternoon painting a life-size Superman on Eliott's bedroom wall. Obviously the little man is delighted.

The comic collection is out of control and we all know the script to "Superman and Batman", the animated movie (no prizes for guessing who also knows every single action). And in addition to Eliott's ever-growing superhero model collection, Matt's 'sad shelf' is back (it caved in under the weight of all his superhero models but has been reinforced and replaced - I can't wait for the cleaners to take them to down to dust and put them back in the wrong order, wicked witch that I am). What a couple of losers.

Oh and I'm unemployed. Ok, I'm being dramatic again. I haven't got any outstanding commissions, but that's the hangovers for you. Tomorrow I will be back to full-strength and pitching like a mutha. It's all gravy**.

*I'm still hungover.

**What?