I don't have any tales of small people meandering through the woods and finding their way to a gingerbread house. Nor do I know of a small red-hooded girl and a very hairy grandmother. I don't even know a Jack with a certain green bean. But I do have a moral for all would-be domestic goddesses.
This morning while in some sort of cleaning frenzy not recognised by man (certainly not my husband at any rate), I tripped down the stairs with Tiny in hand (you see I was trying to get her to come downstairs so we could get the heck outta here) when I entangled myself in the vacuum cleaner cord, trod on the actual plug thing, then twisted my ankle and now I have a very sore, very bruised, very don'teventhinkabouttouchingitorbendingit toe. Thankfully not the big one.
But in case the moral here is not transparent enough, here it is: housecleaning is dangerous. Do it at your own peril. And remember to wear a stack hat, knee pads, mouth guard, steel cap shoes and - actually if you're wearing that, then well, you probably kind of look a bit like a dork, and you know me, I'd rather just leave it.
I'd show you a picture of my toe, but I think it's too ugly to share. Therefore, I deem this a picture-less post.