We visited Marina, Alisa, and Alisa's Baba

And I forgot to take a photo. I see a pattern emerging.

Alisa is five months old and she is a charmer. Lovely smiles and so calm, even when being held by a stranger soon after waking up. She is a petite, pretty, blue-eyed poppet, but you'll have to take my word for it because I FORGOT TO TAKE A PHOTO.

Marina is doing well too. I'm envious of her post-baby body. You'd never know that she'd even had a baby. I have to hold my floppy tummy in and even then I am rather more thickset than I used to be.

Also Marina's mum (whose first name I have already forgotten) is staying with them, visiting from Ukraine. She has a three-month visa, of which one month has been passed in Mitcham, with her daughter, son-in-law and granddaughter. Marina says that her mum is happy to spend the next two months taking Alisa for walks in the pram etc, but I think she is going to be forced to do something tourist-y eventually. Does a visit to Preston count?

Before we left to make this visit, an exciting thing happened. When I re-read this in later years I will probably be horrified and saddened that I found this exciting, but Ivy did a WEE in the POTTY! I acted all calm and happy ("Well done love, you'll have a nice dry nappy now"), but inside I was doing a potty-victory dance.

Stay tuned for another post in which I natter at length about potties, wee, and poo.

As I type this I am eating one of Marina's yummy little Lazy Croissants. They are little puff-pastry crescents, filled with Nutella and then baked. Will there be any left when Trudi comes home? I suppose there'd better be.