Jose Has a Ghost Writress

With write-up time coming to a close it seems that Jose is getting a little tired of writing writing and more writing, and has decided to share some of it out to his family. I've gotten too used to sitting on the sofa, and probably stopped productive thought about a half a year ago, so I'm no use at all. Tara however is full of fresh and original thought, and as that's what traditionally wins people the odd nobel prize here or there, Jose is now claiming his daughter to help with his work. She'd probably prefer studying up on princsses and dragons like she did last week when her knowledgeable uncle Andi was around, but better than having to help around the kitchen, I say. Playtime? Over.

So with Tara and Jose looking after each other, I get some valuable spare time and can finally indulge in ironing and washing up, and clean the bath room, hurrah. Expand on the role of mother, now that I'm getting used to it, and try on that of house wife for size. For now it looks like it's way too big for me, the kitchen is a mess. Or too small, depends. But my appoach to dish washing or cooking will decidedly not win me a nobel prize, not now, not ever, and that's for sure. Though I do do a mean mother's milk. And occasionally I remember to serve the working part of the family a piece of chocolate and a tea. That too matters.