After spending yesterday pretending to be present while the family gathered round us, today we feigned partial recovery from jetlag, filled Matt and Ab's Monster Truck with daughters, babies and baggage and set out for home. Sitting between our Lil and Mr Four, both of whom had dropped off in quiet repose the instant the car was moving, I had to muster all my strength to avoid joining them in the land of nod. In the front, the three girls barely drew breath between sentences.
On arrival at the Home of the Biting Midge, Mr Four as is his way, ran straight into the workshop to make sure all was OK among the tools and half finished boats: "This shed is beautiful" he confirmed, "It's just perfect".
Our house and it's surrounds as it turns out, quite unsurprisingly are every bit as we remembered them. Admittedly the lawn could do with a clip now that Don has moved, and despite naming it after the little beasts, we had forgotten quite how ferocious and numerous are the midges which share our domain.
With jetlag fading in and out for yours truly as the evening wore on, the other of us apparently immune from its effects while still deep in four months' worth of girl-chat in the kitchen, we boys decided to retire to bed at what amounted to quite a reasonable hour (for a four year old).
As the lights went out, it was the voice of Mr Four which once again neatly summarised our position in the household.
"We're a team Papa", he announced from his mattress at the foot of our bed, "you and me and Elliott". Well Elliott was being a bit of a stick in the mud, hanging out with the girls as it happened, but he's probably using his unborn status as an excuse, so I let that one slip.