We had an unexpectedly late night last night. Blame Risk. The taking over the world board game. Apparently we are all evil dictators at heart, and you can never trust anyone, they will always betray you.
But it was a late one. 2am late. The kind of late that I never do any more. Of course, the boys were up at 6am. Of course, it is my day to get up with them.
I'm in denial. The house has the detritus of a global domination campaign all over it; bags of crisps, cold pizza (homemade thank you very much), peanuts, bottles of beer. That classy sort of look. There is no noise from the boys. Actually, that isn't totally true. There is a sort of crisp crackling, muffled giggling. I strongly suspect that they are hiding in the cupboards having laid their hands on some forbidden ill-found goodies.
If I don't notice it then it can't be happening, right? What's so wrong with crisps for breakfast anyway?