If you need a good painted, I know one (that’s an aside and has very little to do with what I want to write about today but our painted, Victor is so good that I thought I’d just mention it. He’s really good). We’re repainting our bedroom and a few doors and window frames. That means our bedroom was not an option for Kit’s nap time (around midday) nor was the spare room because Jess was consulting from it.

At around quarter to 11 I picked up a sleeping Kit from her car seat and walked her into my friends’ Meg and Reka’s garden, up the spiral staircase, down their passage and then slowly placed her in Kagiso’s cot (he’s still on two naps so the timing worked). I then shut the door, lay down on the couch and read my book on Kindle, resisting Instagram and my email, hoping that sleep would find me too. I woke a little before Kit and carried on reading.

When Kit stirred close to two o’clock, I picked her up, chatted to Reka for a few minutes, and then left their house.

In the first months’ of Kit’s and Kagiso’s lives, we didn’t really reap the benefit of our children being born two weeks apart. Not because we didn’t want to. I think we didn’t really have the capacity for it yet. But, now, coming out of the first year, suddenly we do. Suddenly they’re stealing each other’s sippy cups and taking handfuls of the same penne bolognaise on the beach and playing tag-team with cots and demanding more double cream yoghurt at the same dining room table and bathing together and listening to Reka read Where’s Spot. And it’s not so much about Kit and Kagiso being together (that’s really lovely and helluva cute to see their small interactions – even if when it involves, as it did today, a tug of war over the umbrella pole).

It’s for us.

Finally, we get to do some of it together.

Photography of the day: Kit on Clifton 4th at 7pm on a Monday. A bit of alright.

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