My son fell asleep across me on the sofa and for once I didn't try to carry him straight to bed. His head was warm against my arm and one small heel was digging into my thigh, not painfully, just very definitely there. I could feel myself getting sleepy too, that heavy feeling behind the eyes when the house is finally quiet. By the time my husband came in my arm had pins and needles and I needed help getting up. We managed the move without waking our son, then I stood in the kitchen eating a banana because apparently all that sitting had reminded me I was hungry. Not the evening walk I had planned, but quite nice.

I was helping our new administrator find a set of access keys and realised my directions included the words 'the drawer we don't use'. We use it constantly. It only has that name because something else was kept there before she joined. Now I'm wondering how much of the office runs on information that sounds obvious to the rest of us and makes no sense to someone new. I started a little list, but she suggested putting labels on the drawers first, which was annoyingly sensible. Maybe both. A label won't explain why one key is in an envelope, but at least it will get her to the right cupboard.

Dad answered our video call from his workbench in Cebu and showed my son a fan with no cover on it, safely unplugged, because of course that was more interesting than asking about nursery. They were laughing together and I felt properly happy watching them. Then my son tried to hand something through the screen and I got that horrible little catch in my throat. Dad carried on explaining the fan. I'm glad he did. I don't want every call to turn sad because we aren't in the same country. Still, after we hung up I missed the untidy room behind him almost as much as I missed him.