Because I've decided not to become a house husband. And perhaps it's just as well.
Jamie is still quite poorly and, after Vanessa stayed at home yesterday to look after him, today was my turn.
You always know our boy isn't well when he isn't eating (fat ****), and he isn't really eating at the moment - which means he isn't well. (I'm nothing if not logical).
But, in my book, he has to eat to something. So, as you can see above, I gave him giant chocolate buttons for breakfast - followed by a McDonald's Happy Meal for lunch.
Since then he's been up and down, up and down. Hopefully, tomorrow morning, he'll wake-up up and stay up.
If he does, I'll wish him and his mother a pleasant couple of days before heading off to Cardiff for a rugby weekend with Wee John, Other John and Dan. But if he doesn't, I may have to rethink.
If you don't hear from me tomorrow, you'll know I've gone. And if you do, then I haven't - as I shall no doubt explain to you at greater length than you require.
Adieu.
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