I've escaped to the coffee shop with the baby and left the three nieces to throttle each other. I've come up during my annual leave to look after them. My sister rang my mum this morning on her way to work and said I wasn't out of bed yet and it was 830. I've been up at 7 every day and it must have caught up with me, the girls have been fighting all morning and its only 10am there's pots up to the sink and the floor needs the first of its daily cleans. I've asked them to do the pots and make the beds. I got told I'm not the boss of them, I blame Bart Simpson! The 8 month is a bloody doddle, so is the dog. I want to runaway!!