B and I have been working (now and again) on filling out our respective family trees. I guess that's what happens naturally when you get to be over 30/have children, although I hasten to add that I'm not 30 just yet.
Yesterday B decided to do a big printout and bluetac (that's British for sticky goop) the whole shebang to the wall. It looked like this:
I descend from Revolutionary soldiers on both sides of the family (she says smugly). B, on the other hand, is descended from lords and stuff. It's kind of fun, this family tree stuff, but it's very time consuming... which is in short supply these days.
I did get in a nice 2 mile walk today at least. The young master managed about a mile of said walk, along with a play session at a new park we visited. I don't think we'll be going back there anytime soon though... the gang of pre-pubescent chavvy teenagers from the local housing estate was one thing, but the unleashed pit bull mixes were quite another.
Last week while walking through the other nearby park I saw a pit rip up a guy's arm and half-kill another dog. They literally couldn't prise its jaws off the dog it was mutilating. (E and I were behind a fence at this point.) Halfway through the fight, a cop shows up, but this being Britain, the dude wasn't carrying anything but a notebook ("Excuse me, Mr. Illegal Pitbull, I'm giving you a citation."). You'd think they'd have pepper spray at least.
Well, off to watch Youtube trains with the boy in preparation for bedtime.
...generally being Cool. Because nothing says Cool like a stained onesie and oversized sunglasses.
