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Competition. (Now closed)

Well this Thursday my book “Doodlemum. A year of family life”, will finally be published by Two Roads Books

To mark this mega exciting occasion, I would like to run a drawing competition! This is open to everyone who can pick up a pen and is willing to use it! Artistic skills are not necessary although if you want to show off you can too!

I have one Doodlemum book in front of me that has been autographed by the whole family, (I will endeavour to get animal paw prints but can’t guarantee I can get Arnie to do the honours….) it comes complete with a tea bag too (so you can have a drink on me).

The winner will get the book with an original drawing inside by myself.
The three runners up will get a drawing by me.

To win we would like you to send us a drawing, just upload it to angiestevens@hotmail.co.uk. or to the comments section of this post, by photo, flicker, as long as we can see the picture!
The drawing must be an original drawing of your family or a family member.

The KIDS are going to judge the winners so any dodgy (unsuitable for kids) drawings will be vetted by me first….

Good luck, get doodling and on Thursday (publication day) I’ll announce the winners. Remember DRAWING SKILLS NOT NECESSARY! So there’s no excuse….

over to you

The life and times of my pram.

Well you didn’t think I wasn’t going to give my trusty hot wheels a good send off did you?

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Boys and Girls.

The difference is plain to hear!

Changing your child’s nappy in public.

Title says it all really, one big battle waged at four feet off the ground with poo thrown in for good measure. Joyo.

Naptime…

for who?

Tiddle, taddle, toddle.

Gruff’s not quite walking yet. He’s taking steps here and there but not quite the toddler just yet.
At eighteen months he’s another late walker in our family but it’s not long before I say goodbye to the baby phase forever.

Food in flight.

Things that I have had lobbed at me today:
Tomato, rice, chicken, sausage roll, egg, toast and a beaker.
I hope Gruff prefers eating tomorrow instead of throwing his food at his mother.

Can I dig it?

Elbows deep, Gruff is in soil heaven.

Ball Pit of despair….the solution.

Happily suggested by jemjabella and challenged by Alice at spaghettithoughts

Enjoy!

Ball Pit of despair.

Balls go in, balls go out, balls go in, balls go out, balls go in, balls go out.
And why, I ask myself, is the point of a ball pit, if my son insists on throwing ALL the balls out of it?

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