Murdering a Kebab is a Crime of Epic Proportions

Last night we watched "The men who stare at goats" which was quite good but we were both falling asleep so went to bed before the end. Tonight we put it back on, all excited and ready for a good film only to find there was only 5 minutes left, which made us both feel rather daft.

It's been a cracking weekend so far - scorching hot (90's) and laid-back. We took the kids to Caesar Creek Flea Market this morning, knowing they'd hate it but thinking we could pacify them with pony rides. Alas, no ponies, so lots of "I haaaaatttteee shoppinnnnng" and "Can we go home now?" every 5 seconds until we caved and came home. Rats. And Craig had the worst doner kebab ever. It was pita bread with lettuce and tomato (so far so good, right), far too much tzatziki sauce, shredded pretend bland rubbery cheese and cold, steamed meat. He was most upset as you can imagine, him being a doner connoisseur. He once vowed never to go back to Cleveland because we couldn't find a kebab shop after going to watch Ray LeMontagne in concert there and that was eight years ago, so you can see he's dedicated. The best kebab he ever had was in Thurso, Scotland during our 2-week camping trip 14 years ago. I believe it was a chicken tikka marsala kebab and he spoke about it for days after. So Cesar Creek has terrible kebabs but it's great for (1) people watching (although I did point out to Craig that we more than blend in) (2) fabulous bargains (3) guns.

On the way home I snapped a picture of Danny and then remembered that I had one of Jack, taken 2 years ago when he just a bit younger, in the same car seat. Being their mum I really can't tell if they look the same as I think they look miles apart. Do they look the same?

Danny at 16 months, Jack when he was 12 months old.