I am convinced that many people, if not all, are slightly psychic.
You know that feeling when a song comes on the radio and you swear you were just thinking about it... or knowing who's calling when the phone rings?
I woke up this morning and had a funny feeling things weren't right. I never have that feeling, but this morning I knew the tiny terrors were up to something.
Otto and Ted (let's be fair: likely 90% Otto, 10% poor Ted who was bullied into it) had turned our flat into a puppy-nappy demolishing farm. It was everywhere, including hardened bits wedged into Otto's beard, which I had to cut out.
As for how much nappy is currently being absorbed in Otto's insatiable tummy? Anyone's guess.
The tiny terrors are in big trouble this morning. NO treats.