The more we get together

I have been blissfully happy this past week or so. We've been invaded: by my oldest and wisest sister, her husband and their two daughters.

The cousins are all pretty big fans of each other and there's an awful lot of sweet stuff going on:

Fighting over who gets to pull Lady P in the wagon (I bowed out)

Lady P shows her big cousins her hood

And teaches them about America

The thrill of new people's shoes to try on

Colouring time is even more fun when there are more people colouring

It's a lot of people to cram into the charmingly bijou Sugar Cube and there's an element of chaos to daily life as a result. Breakfast is on a scale I had forgotten existed, bathtime is chaotic, and the times in between are a bit of a whirlwind too. We can hardly blame Lady P's oldest cousin for seeking refuge in a quiet corner from time to tome:

I love it. And so does Lady P. The other day we were walking en masse (yes, all seven of us) to the post box up the hill, and she started singing, unprompted, 'the more we get together, the happier we'll be'. My sentiments exactly.

They've gone to Disneyland for a couple of days and I'm feeling a bit bereft. I love having the house full and all the noise and banter that ensues. It makes me long for a big family (though we may have left that too late), or to be closer to my family. Or failing that... more house guests.