It Was All Going So Well...

We'd had a lovely day - drawing, playing at the house, a trip to Craigies Farm (where we declined paying £3 each to pick-our-own strawberries when we only wanted one punnetful), played in the playground for ages, saw the pigs, fed the hens nice fresh grass, found three new-laid eggs in the nesting boxes, bought some strawberries and raspberries for later, went down to watch the planes at the airport, played Poohsticks over the river, came home for a big lunch, made a superb spongecake with the eggs and sampled it, played 'catch' with the hi-viz ball then, just before his  Daddy rang the doorbell to collect him, the Flumlet ran into a stone and cut his toe, right at the base of the nail.

Cue howls of pain, blood flowing, bowls of Savlon, sticking plaster and feelings of guilt for the grandparents.

Failed again.