Dylan woke on Easter morning covered in spots. A long phone call with NHS direct later, it was clear he had chicken pox (it has been going around the school...) It didn't deter him from a constant vigil for the Easter Bunny, and a very excited egg hunt after the bunny (undetected) made his visit, but sadly he didn't feel like eating much chocolate. Sam, on the other hand, had to be physically restrained from stuffing all the easter eggs into his little mouth at once. Sam is now a big fan of Easter.
Dylan is coping very bravely with all his itchy spots (he is a veteran of itchiness) - he has seen most of his friends go through this so it is a sort of rite of passage for him. But it is pretty awful, and we have to cancel his much anticipated Easter Party on Wednesday. I had already bought the food and organised a beautiful sunny day (18 degrees forecast!) so I think I am more upset than he is.
It has been the most glorious Easter weekend - balmy 16 degree temps (which, given the summer average in England is only 15 (!), is pretty good) have had us enjoying the garden, and even BBQing for the first time here. The sight of sunburned poms in their shorts and t-shirts is also good for a laugh.
We have been kept very busy counting, and saving, lambs. Since last weekend they have been popping up in ever increasing numbers in "our" field, without requiring my midwifery assistance - I think we are up to 20 by now, and most of the ewes have either had twins or triplets. My sympathy for the ewes is also on the rise. The lambs are adorable but very silly, and constantly finding themselves on the wrong side of the fence, which leads to the humourous sight of me chasing them around our garden and dropping the back over the fence to their cross mums.
Just before the lambs started arriving, we woke to the sight of a sheep lying on her back, feet sticking up in the air. Uh oh, I thought, one of the ewes didn't make it. Her legs started waving at us. Rigor mortis? Jason donned his wellies and went to fetch the farmer next door, who promptly rolled the poor sheep over back onto her legs again and she ambled off to enjoy the grass without so much as a thank you. Apparantly this can happen, as their backs are flat and if they find themselves on their backs they can't roll back - I would guess, from experience that being heavily pregnant wouldn't help this either! But they can die if they don't get rolled back, so Jason smugly went to work that morning feeling like a sheep hero.
As you can tell, we are quite taken with our growing flock, and starting to question our fondness for lamb cutlets...
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