Two is long After Eight

After Eight chocolates left in box: zero.

After Eight papers eaten by toddler son: unknown, but, judging by unusual nappy contents, more than zero.

Sleepiness level of son at 2:10 am: less than zero.

My wrists: feeling sprained.

Elbows and fingers: rusty.

Feet: bruised.

Rings on Gielgud: zero. Just a mark left by the engagement ring I had to have cut off because of Gielgud’s changing shape.

Fiancé: gone.

State of mind: in sync with Tess of the D’Urbervilles. Watching while my son waves at Tess, laughs at cows and sticks a pencil through the teat of his bottle.

Questions watching Tess of the D’Urbervilles: How could Newt Scamander be so cruel?!

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