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I'm basking in the glory of a 5 day weekend, and five whoooole glorious days with a teething Alfie. I know, I'm jealous of me too.

I have rediscovered an old love this weekend too - actually scratch that, an old obsession - I like to call White Chocolate. Not that famous evil version that we don't allow in this house, but the Green and Blacks version. Oh. The. Precious. Things. I covet this stuff with such a serious passion that I am seriously concerned that when I hit the beach this summer Greenpeace are going to turn up and try to cast me out shouting "Swim Orca, swim!"

Might be a good thing then that I started my new exercise regime this weekend. Yeah, cos that's going to offset the billion calories in each of those delicious creamy squares of chocolatey goodness.

Also good that I finally got measured for a new bra in the right size because my old maternity bra was so small I was sporting a uni-boob which is a truly bad look. Turns out I was a back size AND a cup size out, which is really going some!

And my final thought for the day – I saw this and can’t quite decide whether the designer is a genius or a complete sadist.

Applying it to my own little bundle of melodrama (did I mention THE TEETHING?!?) who is terrified of the vacuum (not surprising considering how rarely he hears it) could I imagine this being the perfect way to create good vacuuming memories? Possibly.

Could I also imagine this being the source of the mother of all hysterical fits should child and sucky hose accidentally come into contact while actually sat on the sucky device? Oh hell yeah.

And do I want to risk the resulting counselling bill? Not s’much. 

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