home again

We made it home about ten last night after train delays and engine trouble. Apparently their mum's ability to control the world does not extend to British Rail. I suppose that would be too much to hope for. As a result they're both overtired and crabby. This means Mycroft's hiding in his room reading Chaucer in his pyjamas, and Sherlock is... Well. Two minor explosions so far today, one broken lamp, and one glob of spinach directed at my face.


Luckily, lack of sleep seems to effect [affect] (...thank you, Mycroft. I didn't need proof actually; I'm happy to take your word for it. Also, you will have to come down and eat something at some point today. I'm going to drag Sherlock to the park in a minute. Do you want to come?) [I cannot think of a less pleasant way to spend the afternoon.] (Then you're not trying very hard. What about being covered in ants? Or having to read Twilight?) [...Point.] (Come and eat something, you'll feel better.)

I'm just going to start that sentence over. Luckily, lack of sleep seems to affect his aim, but he still spent five minutes in time out. (Look, I've been watching old episodes of Supernanny on youtube, all right? Don't judge me. I have to say, this time out business is more effective than I ever thought it would be.)

I'm taking them both to the park after we eat something. Or maybe ice skating? Yeah, that's good. It'll probably all end in tears and naps (for me as well), but everyone will feel better afterward, assuming I don't break a hip or something. Wish me luck. Would prefer not to break anything, as I've got a date later.