Last night he slept in the shop instead of coming to bed. He took possession of it. Today he has alternated between playing, sleeping on the tea towel shopping bags and now hiding as far under the bunk as he can. He knows there is a point between the bunk and the window display that is almost impossible to reach. We are out of bonito flakes (he knocked the jar off the fridge and was found the other night sitting in the midst of broken glass delicately nibbling flakes) which we resort to in times of cheeky behaviour as a tempting treat.
Since starting to write this post he's finally given in and has retired upstairs. He's leaning against my ankle or climbing on things under the desk as I type.
The shop is open and I need to get to the studio to work on some stuff.
I also need to find baking time.
And hunting for nephew presents.
Oh crap.
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