I’m hanging out the laundry. Of course.
It’s lovely, once Spring comes, to be able to hang it outside. The smell of laundry dried outside is right up there with the smell of your child’s shoulder or grass after a May shower.
I have photographs of nappies (for the five minutes that we used disposable nappies), strung out on the bottom lines. I knew I was too tired to remember it myself.
We have two lines. A high one, for trousers and sheets, and a low one, for the kid’s clothes and socks.
But this morning I noticed a change. The oldest’s trousers and tops are big enough for the top row.
It’s both bitter and sweet: good to know that we are further away from nappies and broken nights, sadness that those cloistered days of babyhood are over.