After five nights of weaning my 18 month old from boobie at night it was me experiencing the witching hour. I was snappy and angry and there were no more clocks to throw at the wall - they were all in pieces in the bin. I wanted a way out of those last two hours before hubby got home and I hid myself in the kitchen, looking into empty cupboards, too tired to get to the shop.
So yesterday, in the late afternoon, my daughter invited herself to a friend’s place. I grabbed some pizza dough from the fridge, a bottle of pessata, mozzarella cheese, black olives and my daughter’s yellow playdough rolling pin then drove the kids over.
One kid rolled the dough, another sat on the bench. Three more played. The pizza took ten minutes on high. I was smiling and talking and using my fingers to eat apple, lettuce and Feta cheese salad. This beat the witching hour blues, in fact it elevated it to a night to remember. J
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