Potty Time

Pickle's lost another tooth. The Tooth Fairy was running low on change and he only got 300huf. But he doesn't seem to mind.

Poppet smacked her big toe on the trampoline and needed an X-ray. It's not broken... but the lift from the basement car park to the medical centre on the 4th floor was.

The Insurance Fairy had better be able to poo money when I put the bill under my pillow tonight and rest my aching back.

Boy-Next-Door left his puppy here for the weekend - it looks like Ja-Ja Binks... only ginger. Tiggy is putting it through its paces and exerts her top-dog authority by dragging it round by the scruff of its neck. Still, it seems to have learned from her that weeing in the house really isn't going to win you any friends and keeping quiet at night keeps you from getting water-pistolled (all that Dog Borstal training is flooding back to me).

I am still having an essay crisis but my Mum is sending a text-book care-package, gawd luv 'er, (and by that I mean a parcel of text books, not a model parcel that would get you a Brownie badge).

Nobby is at a meeting over the other side of Hungary and missing all the fun.

That's all for now, but here is a joke from Pickle, who is reading this over my shoulder because he wants to play Grow-Island on Mummy's computer and the bit about pooing money made him giggle.

He says:

What happened when the cat swallowed a coin?

There was money in the kitty!