Dexter awoke, crying, at five thirty this morning. A rather tired/jaded/hungover husband and I were sharing a room with him. Thank goodness for my mother. I have a vague recollection of seeing her out of the corner of my eye, running - gazelle-like - into the room and spiriting him away. Thank Crunchie (and mum).
I actually got up just after nine o'clock - not bad for someone who consumed a lot of vodka and lemonade and didn't get to bed until gone two this morning. Grandad was just taking the boy out in his pushchair, allowing me the luxury of an undisturbed breakfast of tea, toast and Nurofen.
The parents left before lunchtime. The rest of Team Wayne's day was spent in loungewear and eating comfort food, while Dexter perfected his 'pose' for the camera, as demonstrated above. Smooth.