
If you have kids, you have had that moment.
That moment when you put your full, bare-footed weight on that errant Lego brick that has just been lying there, silently waiting for you. The pain is instant, intense and swear worthy. It is guaranteed to send you into a one-legged involuntary jig. You rarely make that same mistake twice.
If little Jimmy or Sally or whoever took the step instead of you, rest assured you would soon hear all about it very quickly.

My eldest, as it turns out, did have half a good idea when she suggested carrying some stones for my fox nemesis. The crap part of the suggestion was suggesting that I go out and gather stones and aiming them at the floor to scare him off, as opposed to a direct shot. The current tools were all reasonably close quarter fox ‘re-education devices’, the stones meant I could keep further away. I changed the stones to large metal nuts that I gleefully picked out, mumbling vengeance under my breath, in the hardware store. I weighed, calculated and scored the various bags of nuts. Not enough in the packet, too heavy, too light, too expensive and as Goldie locks would say this one was just right. 