waste makes paste

We'd been hoping to pop to an open day at a nearishby nursery but also had to make the house suitably presentable to Nicky's west coast peer group, most of whom were visiting with most of their children for a chat and a poke at the house and youngster. The two eldest childs (a matching pair, each five) seemed reasonably impressed whilst the middle one (one) was less impressed, too busy concentrating on alternating between grabbing inappropriately unsturdy things to try and stand up against and crawling towards the kitchen but stopping on the threshold as if he knew he wasn't supposed to be in there unattended and the youngest (fiveish months) wasn't quite at the noticing-other-things-apart-from-spoons-and-food stage. Unfortunately her elder brother (four days off being five) couldn't come as he was getting his legs checked out and unfortunately ended up spending his fifth birthday being fitted for a pair of leg-casts and scheduled for, of all things, traction, apparently now the done thing for infant femoral fractures. I now keenly await (though also slightly fearfully, given the whole leg-fracture thing) the time when it will be appropriate to again clamber about on climbing frames, ostensibly to ensure the safety of offsprings clambering about thereon but essentially just to have an excuse to do so. I had originally thought all this was happening the previous weekend but (after wandering through it last weekend) the nearby park wouldn't have been anything like as pleasant had it still been full of drunk and sunburnt Leithers burning themselves in the name of the Leith Festival Gala Day.