Suppose we better start with RD, he being the encouraging type really got this blog a rolling.
There’s a post where you can check out the details, but here’s his finest points.
Born small. Born early. Learned to snort derisively at diagnosis. Stronger than Geoff Capes, but as light as one of his pet budgies.
Cute. Blonde. Giggly. Disabled.
Sadly lost his life to chronic kidney disease in September 2016, just one month short of his sixth birthday.
Mrs D, that’s me. I like to think I’m the boss. All the other Ds conspire on a daily basis to make sure I never am.
Yarn spinner. Amateur knitter. Classic middle child. Fairly accomplished turd polisher.
Mr D, Wolf to you and me.
He’s just come along for the ride. His selling point? Seemingly limitless patience. And a cracking sense of humour.
Then of course Bun D. Who’s now DD.
A bump, now a peachy baby. Currently a wicked four year old with a perfectly arched eyebrow and comic timing, who drives me to the brink of despair at least hourly. We are mere pawns in her Reign of Terror.
Finally, after losing two babies in utero, and one in the outside world, came along the biggest surprise baby of all, BD.
Current preoccupation: never knowingly underfed and working on his summer body.
