Dirty Face

It's such a Mum thing to do, isn't it? Wiping your child's face with your thumb. I almost feel myself channelling my own mum, and my Gran, when I do it to Orla.

Her Dad came back from London this afternoon. She was beyond excited about seeing him. Her wee face when he got in the car at the station was an absolute picture. Not one I was able to capture, unfortunately.

We had some visitors today. Now bear with me on this - my Mum's grandmother's cousin's grandson (and his wife). My great-great-grandmother's brother emigrated to America in 19th century, and they are his descendants. They got in touch with my Dad through the Historical Society, so we extended some hospitality to them this afternoon. Orla was pleased, as it involved me making a cake. "Is it for the passengers?" she asked "With a cuppa tea?"