Awful radio stations

Yes, our radio station is awful. In a bone-grating, fingernails-down-the-chalkboard sort of way.

Trouble is, between our old, analog radio and the plethora of stations in Wellington, the only two stations powerful enough to drown out the ones around them are the National Programme and this station. And I'm not quite old enough yet to wake up to the National Programme - plus we tried it, and calm, quiet, soothing voices weren't exactly effective to get us out of bed.

So we need to buy a new clock radio - maybe with a digital tuner, maybe with an iPod, maybe with internet radio. My dream? To slipstream the station we used to listen to in London and wake up to it on 12-hour delay.

Anyways, Toby was good this morning, he got ready very quickly and happily and helpfully. He made his honey sandwich and slipped three chocolate biscuits into his lunchbox when he thought I wasn't looking.

The only drama was a crisis with his 'Donkey'. A work colleague has given us a set of balls and rods that you can join together a bit like those chemistry "model a molecule" sets you get in high school. And he loves it. Yesterday he made a Donkey out of it, which was a triumph of abstract art. But today - the Donkey's head fell off, and Toby couldn't get it back on in a way that achieved the sublime aesthetic of yesterday. He was very upset. Tears ensued. But I got him calmed down eventually and we planned and rebuilt the donkey better than before. Only problem now is the camera has a flat battery so we can't capture its majesty.