Finn is Four

A little three year old boy was very excited going to bed last night at the prospect of waking up as a four year old. And he was even more excited this morning when he woke up and came down to open his presents in the living room. Finn is four and every inch the pre-schoolboy, still prone to bouts of childish tantrums when he's tired but gradually growing up and showing flashes of the intelligence we know lurks behind the mischievous eyes.

He was really pleased with his Polly Pocket dolls and their accessories that we bought on e-bay. Ever since discovering them at the Harrisons' house in France, then re-discovering them at the Fishers' house, he's loved dressing up the little figures and acting out games with Sean. So now he has his very own set. We bought a Junior Swingball too although the way the summer has dribbled to a damp end it could well be next year before that sees any action.

I came home early for Finn's party which was a relatively tame affair, forced indoors by yet another heavy shower. We didn't do much, preferring to let the children amuse themselves between the rooms and feeding them early. Finn was pleased with his chocolate caterpillar cake with Smarties and four candles. The Kavanaghs arrived midway through, to stay for the weekend. Pete and I headed out on a miserable evening to see Munster beat Edinburgh 20-15 at a desolate Murrayfield then we managed a couple of drinks in Whighams before catching the bus home. It seems like an age since I was last out.