I've just done something very dramatic. I spent six days away from the children.
I haven't been away from them for more than 2 nights since my eldest was born a dozen years ago.
After an advocate for the child sponsor charity called Compassion UK (with whom I sponsor a boy from Uganda) had pulled out from a major Christian youth festival called Soul Survivor, I volunteered to join the team on their stand and promote this worthwhile cause.
tent instead of queue up for the showers. I learned to knock the slugs off my wellie-boots before slipping them on in the mornings. I enjoyed some of the most awesome charismatic ministry and worship, some thought-provoking seminars, and endured some food that started off tasting pretty good, but by the end of the week, I couldn't face anymore Thai curry and finished up by eating a lot of granola cereal.
When I finally came home today, I couldn't believe how much older the children seemed, especially my five-year-old.
They still devoured the 2-dozen Krispie Kreams I brought home from the motorway service station and complained that the raspberry glaze had melted off in the hot trunk of the car.
Still, it's good to be home.