*Yawn*

Last night was our Mother's Group dinner *see sidebar*. I'll do a better write up on it later, but suffice to say at this point it was a great night and I begrudgingly left at 11pm like I said I would, because I knew by then, if not before, Riley would be WANTING MUM'S BOOBS PRONTO! So I pull into the driveway with the hope that maybe once, just once, that's not the way it's going to play out. I walk into the house to a symphony of screaming. Adam walks by me, throwing up his hands. "He's been crying for over an hour. I go in to settle him and he just wants me standing over his cot, watching him. I give up." Me too, mate. Me too. I walk into Riley's room and when he finally registers it's me and not dad, I don't even get that look of relief "Oh, it's you!". This time it's "Get over here, bitch". Oh, little boy. These times are a-changin' soon. Perhaps he thinks he'll be able to get away with double-trouble this week because it's his birthday week. Maybe. Maybe not. We'll see.