Happy New Year . . . ??

Goodness, another very long wait for me to update this blog, sorry! It is due to a malicious and evil flu bug that struck me down in mid-December.

This was The Bug.
The Big Bag Bug of Horror and Meanness.
No, I'm not sure my picture above does justice to it either.

I was out of it for the first week of the illness, including hallucinations about about corpses and monsters. I was wiped out the second week (Happy Christmas!) and here we are nearly 4 weeks later and I STILL haven't thrown it ... and I haven't got my voice back.

That's right. For over 3 weeks, I have only been able to whisper. No comments about Tom being a lucky man, please!

Caitlin was very cross with me to start with.

"Speak properly, Mummy!" she scolded me, "Don't whisper!"

"I can't help it, I've lost my voice", I whispered back.

After that, she tried to come up with a practical solution. She busied herself looking for my voice everywhere and then, success!

"Mummy! I've found your voice!" she exclaimed, "It was here under the sofa. I put it in your mouth!"

And she scuttled up to me, holding, well, frankly, nothing in her hand and proceeded to try to thrust her fist down my throat. Sadly, for both of us, it didn't work, except she bashed her hand on my teeth and burst into tears.

Now, she is quite resigned to it. When one of her friends at nursery asked me why I was whispering (it is extremely hard to make yourself heard when trying to whisper over the noise of a large number of toddlers during free play), Caitlin told him informatively, "My Mummy has lost her voice!"

And I asked her the other day, "Can you remember what Mummy's voice sounds like?" to which she replied, "No!"

Nice to know I make such a deep impression on my daughter.

I hadn't realised just how much I use various tones of voice to keep her well behaved. I rarely shout but somehow, and I don't know where I learnt it, I have developed The Mummy Tone. You know. The one that brooks no argument.

Yes, well, that doesn't work with a whisper. You just get a kind of lurching croak at moments of sheer desperation (like when she's wriggled her hand from mine and is about to run off in a car park). The croak sounds distressingly loud after all the whispering and inevitably makes her cry. Which, in my overtired state, makes me want to cry too!

Just to make matters worse, she has really learnt to play me just lately and being ill and tired makes me extremely easy to play. So I also have to deal with things like this: "You made me cry, Mummy," (lip wobbling, one tear down the cheek) "You shouted at me and that made me sad."

Then on New Year's Eve, Tom fell of his bike in the black ice (he cycles to work) and sprained both his wrists so badly that he couldn't even turn the key in the lock that afternoon when he came home. So for the best part of a week, I ended up dressing him as well as Caitlin! I had to reach somewhat higher to lift the jumpers off for him!

Then poor Tom got a tummy bug for 2 days following that. Yes, we are the House of Health. And still I couldn't shake this wretched bug (probably as no rest for the wicked or the ill when you have a toddler and a handless husband).

The only well person in our house was Caitlin, who unlike me and Tom, was filled with joy of life and a distressingly large amount of energy ... and was bouncing off the walls with boredom as I didn't have the strength to take her out!

I think thanks to salt water gargling, I'm turning the corner now - although last Friday in work I couldn't even whisper because of the pain in my throat and spent meetings passing notes to people that they had to read out for me!

But ... Caitlin went back to nursery this week (as like a slave driving fool, I made myself go back to work) and guess what? The germ factory strikes again and she's back with a horrid runny noise. Yes, that is how it all started last time ....

Happy New Year!!!???!!

Ellie x

P.S. No fun Christmas stories to tell you because after all that build up, I was too ill to remember much of it, but Father Christmas delivered all but the pony (bad lucky, Daddy). I might tell you about Baby Annabel next time ....

Forgive the long wait for an update. Combination of going to the horrendous Collectors Show in Peterborough (I can't bear to speak of it but Tony is planning to give his opinions in his blog soon. I still can't think of it without weeping), various exceptionally evil viruses (the joys of living with a germ factory, sorry, toddler), potty training (enough said) and busy times at work have put my blog rather on the back seat.

I promised readers of my email that I'd give you the full story of Father Christmas, so that seems like a good place to start.

Caitlin is getting hugely excited about Christmas. Last week, we wrote to Father Christmas. Well, she drew him a picture and then dictated the letter to me. It went something like this:

Dear Father Christmas,

How are you? I have been a good girl. Please may I have [this polite wording took a little prompting from Mum]

• An aquadraw [that’s a mat that you can use water to draw on = no paint needed. Mum gives it bonus points]
• A baby annabell for my Mummy
• A pony for my Daddy

[“Daddy likes ponies”, she added at this point, rather inaccurately. I didn’t have the heart to put her right.]

Thank you very much and please give Rudolf a cuddle from me.

Caitlin Hopkins x

We then put the letter on our gas fire (I regretted this moment of enthusiasm when I saw the ashes!). Caitlin is not normally allowed anywhere near the fire so this was Very Exciting.

The normally blue flames glowed orange as the letter burned and I told her that was because the magic was working. She was so excited that she giggled uncontrollably and has talked of nothing else since. She told all the toys in her cot (many times). She told everyone at nursery. She told Nana, G'andad, the lady in the fish shop and random people in the supermarket.

A few days later, I took Caitlin "Christmas shopping" for presents she could give people. I'd prepared her for this beforehand by asking (perhaps hopefully), "Who would YOU like to give presents to?"

"Um, I don't know!" Caitlin was slightly mystified.

"Well, Christmas is a time when you get presents for people you love," I explained, "I'm getting presents for you and Daddy and my friends".

Caitlin thought for a moment, "I want to get a present for Jane [the ragdoll] and Teddy" she said.

"That's nice, darling!" I trilled, "We can do that. But I was thinking about real people. What about Fabi?" [Fabi is her Best Friend from nursery]

Her eyes lit up.

"Yes, Fabi. And Thomas"

"Good, now you're getting the idea! Fabi and Thomas, then!"

"And Ellianna. And Amelia."

"Excellent, ok, Fabi, Thomas, Ellianna and Amelia."

"And Caris. And Poppy. And Georgie. And Fraser. And Sky."

"Right," says Mummy, starting to feel this has all gone a little out of control and wondering how we are going to get presents for the entire nursery.

Inspiration struck and I took her to the little chocolate shop in Hythe where they were doing small chocolate Penguins and Teddy Bears for 35p each (meaning we could buy presents for unlimited numbers of small children without having to re mortgage).

Caitlin enjoyed choosing presents and came up with even MORE names of lucky recipients whilst we were in the chocolate shop. It was only afterwards, as we headed out into the winter sunshine, that I saw the penny drop. None were for her.

"Caitlin, you look sad," I said, "What's the matter?"

Her lower lip trembled slightly.

"I don't want an aquadraw from Father Christmas anymore," she said.

"No?"

"No, I want chocolates instead. Like these Penguin chocolates!"

I managed not to smile.
"Sweetie, I think Father Christmas will take it as read that you'd like some chocolates. You don't need to tell him in the letter. He knows all boys and girls like things like that!"

This cheered her up greatly.

Having a toddler at Christmas is proving really fun!

Work News
Meanwhile, on the work front, things have been great. Kent Wildlife Trust have confirmed that they want to work with us for the Endangered Plants Stamps next year, so hopefully that will raise some good funds for them.

Plans for Bleriot are going along nicely too although it is looking less likely that we'll be flying covers in the Bleriot plane on the anniversary date. I've since realised that of course, it is made of canvas and piano wire (or something like that) and probably a box of covers is rather over the weight limit! Oh, and if it rains, the plane can't fly (wet canvas). Apparently there is a very high mortality rate flying these ancient aircraft. Urgh, rather them than me. I'll stick to a horse, thanks.

My most exciting news this week is: we've decided to launch the first ever course in collecting covers. As far as I know, there has never been one before. It's going to be an online course, starting next Easter and will run for 10 weeks. People can get the course notes for free or sign up to do it properly, which will mean 10 short assignments each week and a certificate at the end for £10. And I'm talking to Stamp Magazine about the possibility of them sponsoring it. That should be really fun. If you'd be interested in taking it next year, let us know and we'll email you full details nearer the time. Drop us an email at sales@buckinghamcovers.com or call us on (+44)01303 278 137.

Christmas Special Offer
I've also got a lovely special offer for you online this week: our Father Christmas covers personally signed by Raymond Briggs at a special price. Click here for more.

Until next time (when I will try NOT to leave it so long)

Ellie x

I tell you something embarrassing. My 2 year old daughter is currently far more on the ball than I am.

Although I put that down to the fact that she keeps me awake all night. I'm SO TIRED!

Today, I was in a huge panic as I couldn't find my house keys. I searched all the usual places, I went out and looked in the car, I checked my pockets. Then I started to Worry ... had they fallen out of my handbag....?

Caitlin, who had been watching Fifi and the Flowertots on TV (her favourite), came through to find me.

"What's the matter?" she asked, seeing me look upset.
"Mummy's lost her keys!" I confessed.
She trotted straight to the radiator in the hall, where I'd dumped my keys on the way in.
"Here they are, Mummy!" she smiled up at my, handing them over, "Don't worry, I've found your keys!"

I had a similarly disconcerting moment when after rushing from work, still stressed and very tired to pick her up from nursery, I walked her to the wrong car in the carpark without noticing. She kept saying, "No, Mummy! This isn't our car!"

"Yes, it is, silly," says Mummy, assuming that she is the one in control of life.

"No, it's not! Our car is over there!"

And when I got to the car I was pulling her along to, I realised to my horror that she was right! Oh dear . . .

Something else disconcerting is the family relationships going on with the toys in the cot at the moment. It seems the Jane the ragdoll is actually the daughter of Mrs Mouse, whilst Mrs Dear (an elderly teddy in a dress who used to be mine), is Jane's "Nana". Caitlin loves playing happy families, but I was a little alarmed to be informed that I am Denny the Duck's Mummy!

"This is your baby," she told me seriously, holding up Denny the Duck, "Rock him to sleep and feed him!"

(mind you, at one point this week, she told me that I was her baby and she would sing me a lullaby).

Meanwhile, work has been very busy and exciting this week. We had an advert in the Mail for our QE2 tribute covers on the day that she retired. The phones went mad! So I've spent a bit of time helping the customer service team this week.

I've also been preparing for this dreaded collectors' show in Peterborough next weekend. I shouldn't say "dreaded" only Tom and I will be manning a rather massive stall with Caitlin there too! Eeck. Mind you, Mum and Dad (aka Tony and Cath) will be around and will help.

I'm meeting with Kent Wildlife Trust next week about possibly working with them in 2009 (fingers crossed) and today, I'm meeting the organiser of Dover 2009 to talk about the Bleriot celebrations I mentioned last week. My Ivor project is coming along nicely too and our cover will hopefully star Idris the Dragon!

Until next time,

Ellie x

P.S. I'll be putting images of our Mini 50th anniversary covers online tomorrow, hopefully. It's going to be huge!

The Chatterboxes!

Caitlin has discovered imaginative play. It’s great! Over the weekend, Tom and I enjoyed a very relaxed cup of tea whilst Caitie announced, "I'm a farmer today" and disappeared to undertake various tasks around the farm.

We put our feet up and chilled on the sofa, whilst the industrious little farmer would pop in every couple of minutes to let us know what was next on her busy agenda:
"I'm rounding up the sheep now", she'd announce before trotting into the kitchen with a sense of purpose.
"I'm just feeding the pigs!" she called, a minute or so later.
"Don't forget the cows!" we shouted back, encouragingly, before falling back into our chat.

It was all very relaxing. There was, admittedly, a sudden and almighty CRASH at one point which worried Tom but I am wise to the sound of clothes pegs and didn't panic.

WORK WORRIES
Actually, I've been very grateful for Caitlin this week as it's been a bit of a facer at work recently which is why I haven't updated the blog until now.

Cara unexpectedly threw her notice in a me just over a week ago which threw me more than I expected. She'd done a placement year with us between her 2nd and final year of a business degree at University. She first joined us when I was very fat and pregnant and left us just before Caitlin turned one.

Cara was brilliant on her placement year and I also tried to give her a lot of support, coaching and encouragement all through my maternity leave and when I came back too. She seemed a natural at websites, marketing and ideas and very self motivated. I offered her a job when she graduated and she took some time to decide whether to accept or not.

In the end she did, but made it clear she didn't want to be treated as just a young undergraduate next time. She wanted to be taken seriously and given a meaty role that would challenge and expand her.

Well, I obviously took that bit far too seriously as when she gave her notice in, she said marketing wasn't for her, and she'd been lonely. I thought I'd given her all these terrific projects (which I'd have LOVED to have worked on myself but being part time, can't) and her dream job but it turns out I completely misjudged it.

It's all common place in business and goodness knows, I was a nightmare when I just graduated. I also took a job on the back of a placement and really, I shouldn't have accepted it as I hadn't enjoyed the placement at all! But when you are staring unemployment in the face, just out of Uni, you tend to grab the first offer. I expect that is what Cara did.

But even though the grown up side of me accepts it, the childish bit of me is very sad. Still, lessons to be learnt and you can always improve as a manager. Having a part time manager who spends the rest of the time splashing in puddles, making toys talk and riding around on tricycles must be a bit of challenge ...

I LOVE TO RIDE MY TRICYCLE
Talking about tricycles, have I told you about mine? Firstly, a confession.

I can't ride a bike.

Isn't that appalling?

But I've given up being ashamed now so I think I shall just announce it, loud and proud. Give me a horse anytime. It can see where it's going.

Tom, meanwhile, is a very keen cyclist. But I was a bit jealous when he was taking Caitlin out on his bike so . . . he has bought me my very own, grown up trike with 2 child seats behind (2?? Well, you never know) from eBay. It is a Pashley model straight out of the 1970s with a basket for my shopping on the back. I love it!

So does Caitlin.

She sings to me all the way and insists on honouring different toys by letting them ride on the spare kiddie seat. Mind you, last time we cycled to the supermarket, a cauliflower was in pride of place seat belted into the spare seat as I couldn't fit it in the basket!

I'll have to get a photo up for you of the intrepid trikers!

NEW COVER PROJECTS (you heard it here first)

I've had a couple of very exciting projects come my way at work this week. Sarah spotted that it is the 50th Anniversary of Ivor the Engine ... look, there he is! ... next year.

I've spoken to Peter Firmin who created Ivor along with Oliver Postgate and he's agreed to let us produce the official Ivor 50th anniversary cover and stamp sheet! I'm hugely excited and think it is only right that we get Ivor on DVD as a company expense ... do you think??

The project will be raising funds for Peter's charity, Society for the Protection of Animals Abroad, which I hadn't heard of before but now am very excited about. This charity works through West Africa and the Middle East treating sick working animals and educating people about how to look after them better. In communities where people's livelihoods depend on their animals, this is incredibly important. By helping the animals, they also help the families.

The other project is celebrating 100 years since Louis Blériot’s remarkable achievement on 25 July 1909. He flew the very first cross channel flight in a Blériot XI aeroplane powered only by a 25HP engine.

It's a fabulous piece of aviation history to commemorate and even more exciting when you live a stone's through from where it happened. Dover is buzzing with it and there will be big celebrations next year, including a historic recreation of Blériot's flight across the English Channel (hopefully with our covers on board!).

CHATTERBOXES!
Finally, give Tom your sympathy. There will be no peace for him ever since it is becoming increasingly clear that Caitlin is going to be as much of a chatterbox as me!

When I went to pick her up from nursery yesterday, it turned out they had been doing "free play" with large cardboard boxes. They could do anything they wanted with their box. There were pirate ships, racing cars, houses, jack in the boxes ... but Caitlin and her little best friend, Fabi, hadn't done anything with theirs. They were just sitting in it, chatting!

"They've been there all afternoon", one of the ladies told me, "Talking to each other!"

Intrigued, I crept closer to eavesdrop before Caitlin noticed me and listened to their conversation. It went something like this:

Caitlin: I go with my Mummy and my Daddy sometimes to the park.
Fabi: I have a dog and he goes woof sometimes.
Caitlin: And we jump sometimes and sometimes we splash in puddles.
Fabi: My baby doll is called baby.

And so it went. Neither seemed at all bothered that the other wasn't listening and they both seemed delighted with their conversation, which had apparently gone on for hours!

When I interrupted them to take Caitlin home, they had a big hug.
"Claitlin is my best friend", said Fabi.

Thank goodness for toddlers, they do cheer you up (even if they also cause half your insecurities and all your exhaustion).

I did promise in my email last week to tell the tale of Denny the Pumpkin in more depth but I think I may have exhausted your patience enough for one time! So I'll end here,

Ellie x

P.S. Denny has a friend! Caitlin was given a pink rubber duck, which she has named Claire, in her party bag at Isaac's party, which made up for the loss of the Boat.

Claire, it turns out, can't use the potty like Denny as her hole is in her beak but she is fabulous at rinsing and spitting when it's tooth cleaning time . . .

Beal Beal! Beal Beal!

This week, I took Caitlin out to lunch with one of her friends from nursery and the friend's Mum. It was carnage!

Caitlin and I go to this coffee shop quite often, just the 2 of us, and she is usually angelic. I bask in the approving glow of the old ladies who lunch there. They usually coo over my daughter and tell me what I great Mum I am (such ego boosts are always welcome).

Taking her with her friend was a whole new story.

The first thing that happened was that both of them sprinted in before we could catch up with them, grabbed the homemade greetings cards for sale and brandished them around, to the disapproving glares of everyone else.

“Caitlin!” I hissed, “Is that your thing?”
“No…..” she says, slightly shamefacedly.
“Do we touch OTHER PEOPLE’S THINGS?”
“No”, she replies sadly.
“Then PUT IT BACK!”

I put Caitlin in her booster seat as usual at the table. I like booster seats as I can strap her in (control freak). But! Her friend, Fabi, sits in a grown up seat.

“Why’s Caitlin in a baby’s chair” asks Fabi.
Caitlin looks dismayed.
“Because Caitlin isn’t as tall as you and that way she can reach the table”, replies Fabi's Mum, faster than the speed of light.

Next I put on Caitlin’s bib.
Fabi doesn’t have a bib anymore (oh dear, am I babying her too much? Mum insecurity mode ON).

“Why’s Caitlin wearing a baby’s bib?” asks Fabi.
Caitlin looks dismayed and tries to take the bib off.
“Because Caitlin is wearing a prettier dress than you!” says Fabi’s quick thinking Mum.

The worst part of the lunch was the NOISE. They were tearaways! Caitlin and Fabi were so noisy that I got ticked off by one of the old ladies who lunch (opps! very upsetting for me who can't bear disapproval, especially of my Caitlin!).

When Caitie and I went to the loo, I thought I'd grab the chance to get my Caitie back in line and whispered to her, “You and Fabi are being very noisy. Do you think you can be a bit quieter for Mummy as we’re disturbing the other people?”

Mistake.

Caitlin was too excited for reason.
And mentioning noise was a Very Bad Idea.
She has a game with Pig (one of her soft toys), involving Pig (who has a voice much like Dot from Eastenders) declaring “I don’t like noise” to which Caitlin replies with a large number of high pitched shrieks.

Yes, you've guessed right. As soon as I mentioned noise, the high pitched shrieks happened. Along with a lot of silent screaming in my head.....

But the rowdiest moment was probably when the 2 hoodlums both held their cheese sandwiches to the sky and declared: "Beal, beal! Beal, beal!" like a war cry.

"BEAL BEAL! BEAL BEAL, Mummy!" they chorused.

(At least, it sounded like "beal, beal". I hope it wasn't "kill, kill").

It turns out Fabi, Caitlin's friend, has been chanting "beal, beal" for sometime at home. So has Caitlin. Both Fabi's Mum and I are completely bemused as to what it is. Any ideas?

Oh by the way, since I last wrote, I came up with a Brainwave about The Boat.

I promised Caitlin she would get a sticker every time she used the potty and when she had enough stickers to fill up a large chart, she could have a boat like Isaac's. She was inspired enough to take potty training very seriously and has earned the boat already.

Oh, Denny has been forgiven. But he is rather outshined by The Boat at bathtime now.

Best wishes

Ellie x

The Battle of the Boat

I have been warned that Caitlin will hit the "terrible twos" and I'm starting to get an inkling what they mean . . .

Just before her bedtime last night, she spotted a toy boat on the side of the kitchen. I'd bought it for my friend's son's first birthday next week.

Caitlin's eyes lit up.

"Is that mine?" she asked excitedly.

"No, darling, it's a present for Isaac's birthday", I replied.

She is undaunted. "Can I have it?" she asked.

"No, darling", I reply, "It's a present for Isaac."

"Can we share it?" she asked, with the air of a lawyer about to pounce.

"No, darling", say I, "because it is for Isaac".

"That's not fair!"

"Well, firstly, life isn't fair", I say calmly, giving her the wisdom always imparted to me by my Dad, "and secondly, I think in this case it is pretty fair because Isaac gave you a watering can for your birthday and now you are giving him a boat for his".

"I WANT IT!!!!!!!" roared Caitlin, logic escaping her.

"I NEED IT!!!!" she added for good measure.

She then proceeded to weep bitterly all the way to bed. I say "weep" because it was more tragic than your usual cry. The tears rolled silently down her cheeks. She shook a little. Her lip trembled. Every now and then, she would whisper, as if the pain was almost too much to bear, "I need that boat!"

My word, it was hard. I had to bite my lip to stop myself exclaiming, "My precious girl, my darling one, have the boat! It's yours!" or "Don't cry, my sweet, we will get you a boat! Tomorrow, we will go and buy a boat just for you!".

But, I'm proud to say, I didn't. I manage to harden my heart to the pathetic, weeping mite and put her to bed, still snivelling and muttering about boats. She cried herself to sleep and I forced myself to go downstairs and leave her to it.

"She's just overtired" I told myself, "No one dies of a broken heart because they didn't get a small, plastic boat. She'll be herself again in the morning."

The next morning, Caitlin called me, as she does and I jumped out of bed (obedient Mum that I am but unlike an alarm clock, she doesn't have a snooze option).

"Good morning!" I said cheerfully.
"Good morning!" she replied, "Can I have that boat now?"

!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

(I stayed strong. It is now the Great Unspoken. But wish me luck when we give Isaac the boat next week!)

SPECIAL BLOG OFFER!

I promised I'd hide some offers in my blogs so here is the latest. I couldn't really find an offer for a cover featuring a plastic boat or a raging toddler, funnily enough, so I did some lateral thinking and here is a submarine cover instead!

It's an amazing submarine cover at that.
A classic from 2001, we officially produced it for the Royal Navy Submarine Museum. This edition has a British Forces Post Office postmark and I believe just 11 were personally signed by Victoria Cross winner, Ian Fraser VC. He won his VC at sea.

The full price is £45. We only have a few left in stock (well, he only signed 11 so you can imagine we don't have many!)

And for readers of my blog, if you move fast, you can own one for just £40.
That is a whole £5 off. But only while stocks last.
Click here to find out more & buy.

You might wonder that we have ANY left considering how good a cover it is and the answer, as usual, is that we forgot to advertise it! I think he signed much later, after the cover was issued, when we sent him a batch of other covers and slipped these 11 in to make up the numbers. We are always doing things like that and then forgetting to tell our collectors! Still, good news for you though . . .

Until next time,

Ellie x

Denny the Duck in disgrace

Denny the Duck has recently overtaken Pig and Jane as Caitlin's Favourite Toy.

He's a rubber duck and she's taken a real shine to him. He shares her bath before bed and then she insists that he keeps her company in the cot as well.

She used to HATE having her hair washed with the shower and would make a massive fuss about it. Then Denny the Duck started having HIS head washed with the show. He made an even bigger fuss!

"I WANT MY MUMMY" screams Denny the Duck (I try very hard not to move my lips for this kind of thing. I'm not a great ventriloquist but Caitie seems to go with it).
"I WANT MY DADDY! I DON'T LIKE THE SHOWER!" Denny the Duck cries.

Caitlin finds this very funny and insists that Denny MUST be showered.

"Don't be silly and horrid, Denny", she tells him seriously, "The shower will make you clean".

This little play acting has changed her from a complete pain to a complete joy on hair wash days! So I was inspired to go a step further and use Denny to encourage potty training.

Oh dear, I know. It is terrible the lengths to which a desperate Mum will stoop.

You know how these rubber duck toys fill up with water from the bath? And they have a little hole in them? Well, after bath time, Denny the Duck goes on the potty (Caitlin doesn't seem to think it odd that Mummy gives him a ferocious squeeze at the same time). And low and behold, Caitlin is suddenly keen to use the potty before bed time too.

So far so good.

The only problem? I didn't mention all this to Tom, my lovely husband. I have him very well trained since he's stopped commuting. While I put Caitlin to bed, he cooks my dinner! But of course, that meant he'd missed the Denny potty saga.

Over the weekend, Tom came up to keep us company at bedtime. She told Daddy that when she went in her cot, Denny must come too.

"Hang on, sweetheart, he's full of water", said Tom, and without thinking, he squeezed the water out of Denny all over Caitlin and her towel.

But Tom wasn't prepared a) for the sheer amount of water that Denny holds and b) for the strength of reaction he got.

Caitin was HORRIFIED. FURIOUS. DISMAYED.

"DENNY'S DONE A WEE ON MY TOWEL!" she wailed, tears rolling down her cheeks.

Tom and I tried very hard not to laugh but we couldn't cheer her up until I removed the towel, promising it would be thoroughly washed and "cleaned" Caitlin with a wipe.

Denny was banished.

"You should have used the potty!" she told him, "Go away and think what you've done!"
And no amount of Denny's heartfelt apologies could persuade her to forgive him. Which is quite harsh really considering she never gets into trouble for her own "accidents"!

The next day she did tell Denny they could be friends again.

"But DON'T DO IT AGAIN", she told him firmly.

More stories soon!

Ellie x